Castaways on a Sullen Sea
by weasleywheezes
Summary: COMPLETE! Two unlikely souls find a love uncommon. An excursion into the angsty, dramatic, gothic romance. SSHG.
1. Prologue

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: My handiwork is based on the works of J.K. Rowling and her Harry Potter series of books. I am not affiliated with Rowling, Scholastic, AOL/Time Warner or its companies, basically anything having to do with the World of Potter. All rights reserved, but hopefully they won't yank this off of the web. Not written for my personal gain, but just because I'm a sick puppy who loves May/December romances.

~~~~

I have many people to thank. First, I'd like to say thank you to my hub, Robbo the Magnificent, for putting up with my weirdness. Thanks to my pal, satanslut, who doesn't read Harry Potter, for her continuous confidence in my abilities (and for helping me decide on a title!). Thanks to Gaslight for your support and advice. (And read her great LOTR stories here at ff.net!) Thanks to my friendly beta, LadyTuesday (whose great fic can be found at fictionalley.org's Dark Arts section). Finally, thanks to the merry band of fellow Sev/Mione 'shippers, the S.S. Prudence and Potions for the witty banter and for letting me know I'm not the only one who thinks Snape and Hermione are perfect for each other!

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Author's Note:  This is rated R for a reason. In the following chapters, you will find discussions of murder, rape, adult language, premarital sex, etc. If you don't want to read about that, please don't progress any further. Thank you.

~~~~

Prologue

It was unusually hot. Skeletons of trees stood lifelessly, their autumnal leaves fell to the ground in a last ditch effort to sacrifice themselves to Nature's whims. Heat lightning had set the dried vegetation on fire. The moon was clouded over with the smoke of burning wild grasses. In the middle of the flames stood a withered man, wearing a diaphanous robe and ill-fitting black trousers underneath, his arms raised in a ritualistic salute. He laughed with satanic glee.

"Soon. Very soon, I will regain my strength and I will once again be master of all!" the man screamed.

A tall man with long, blond hair stood outside of the fire. He choked on the vapours. "My lord, tell me what it is you desire. I will do anything to bring you back to your glory."

The man in the filmy robe smiled. It was brittle and frightening. "I desire nothing but your service. You've already proven yourself to be devoted to my return to greatness."

His apprentice bowed low. "I am yours," he rasped.

The wizened man shivered. He stepped out of the blaze and walked toward the trees. He turned, muttered a curse, and a light mist hung over the heath, extinguishing most of the fire and causing a thick, woodsy fog to cover the area.

The blond knelt in front of his master. "How may I help you, sire?"

He held a photograph in his bony hand and pointed to it. "Murder him," he hissed.

The tyro paused. He stared at the item in his master's hand; mouth gaped open in slight horror. "But, my lord, he was your most trusted…"

"Silence!" The emaciated man snapped. "He was; was being the operative word here, Lucius. He betrayed me, and when you betray the Dark Lord Voldemort, you die. It is quite simple. I thought you knew that."

"How am I supposed to go anywhere near him?" Lucius asked. "I'm supposed to be in exile. I can't just show up there and kill him. If I go anywhere near him, I will be placed in Azkaban. Surely you don't want my son to be fatherless?"

"Of what concern is that to me? Better yet, can't you send your worthless son in your stead?"

Lucius sprang to his feet. "I cannot have my son live the same fate I have! Please, please, my lord, have…mercy on him."

Voldemort laughed, cold and violent. "Mercy! What is mercy, when I, the most powerful wizard to have ever held a wand…when I am stuck in this worthless body, kept alive by hatred and a burning desire to reclaim my rightful position as ruler of the world? Murdering Muggles isn't fun for me anymore, Lucius, because they can't fight back. Mudbloods? Sure, I love to watch them squirm in agony, to hear their pleas for life. 'Mercy! Mercy, Lord V-v-v-Voldemort!' they stutter, as I force them to bow to me. Mercy," he drew the word out, "Ha! They will all beg for mercy when I am restored!"

Lucius bowed again at the feet of the Dark Lord. "But, sir, how am I to perform the task you've set before me?"

The dark wizard looked down his long nose to Lucius. "You know what I demand of you, Lucius. Ultimate loyalty."

Lucius 's shoulders sunk low, as if he resigned himself to his fate. He murmured his acceptance of Voldemort's command. Voldemort cackled. "You have passed my test. You are truly worthy of being my right hand. No, we will wait until it is the appointed time. The traitor is still useful to me. I think I shall toy with him, Lucius, use him to my advantage. Perhaps he'll make a mistake, one I can profit from. But I will wait. It will be much sweeter then.

"I am still weak from my last encounter with Potter. I must regain my strength. But, I swear to you now, before the year is over, I will reign over all." He started to cough, his shoulders shaking violently. Lucius draped a thicker cloak around the man's frame.

"My lord Voldemort!" He dropped the photograph on the ground. The last of the blaze licked around the object, and it was consumed in the embers.

Voldemort's breathing, still laboured, seemed to echo through the moor. He softly started to laugh, then the noise grew louder and louder until the reverberation seemed to drown out the sound of anything else in the countryside. The dark lord stood boldly in the middle of the field, almost daring Nature to do her worst to him. "We must be patient. Patience is a virtue, my son," he jeered. He drew himself to his full height, his frightening visage mirrored in the destruction all around him. "We must bide our time. After all, what is time when you will have eternity?"


	2. A Curious Girl

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 1 – A Curious Girl

"But why, Hermione?"

"Because, Harry, I need something for extra credit. This would be the perfect addition for my transcripts. There would be no university in the magical world who could deny me if I had it."

Ron looked at his friend as if she had grown a second head. "But…but…Snape!" he said, practically screeching the hated potion mater's name.

Hermione glared at the red head. "I don't think you've noticed that Professor Snape doesn't seem to hate me as tenaciously as he used to?"

Harry laughed. "The only way he could have hated us more is if he poisoned us."

Hermione ignored him. "Harry, I thought at least you would know why it's important to study Occlumency."

"What, are you having some weird dreams or something? Ron said snidely.

The girl sighed. Harry and Ron had been her closest friends, brothers, really, since their first years at Hogwarts. If they didn't understand her thirst for knowledge by now, they would never understand. While Harry and Ron discussed the many awful things they could do to the dungeon while Hermione was learning Occlumency with Snape, she excused herself to her quarters.

She had been named Head Girl and had a beautiful room to herself. Instead of the Gryffindor colours of the rest of the tower, the Head Girl's room was decorated in white, in order for the Head Girl to adapt the room to suit her particular tastes. Hermione brought few things with her. A small collection of porcelain cats sat on a shelf. She hung a picture of her parents on the wall nearest her bed, a lithograph of a French poster on the opposite wall, and had a small collection of pictures on her large, stately desk, mostly of Harry, Ron, the Weasleys and Remus Lupin. A cumbersome willow basket sat in a chair on the corner, where Crookshanks, her cat, slept. Hermione's bed was perfectly made, with an old velvet throw pillow from Dobby the House-elf and a knitted afghan from Mrs. Weasley in Gryffindor colours. She had her books stored on a bookshelf she had charmed to look invisible. Everything was completely orderly. Completely Hermione.

She sat down to write a letter to Viktor Krum, who was now the highest paid Quidditch player in the world. He and Hermione had struck up a friendship three years before, during the Tri-Wizard Championship. For a while, they were quasi-boyfriend/girlfriend, but had decided they were best as friends. He had invited her to the World Cup in Argentina as his guest that year, but she decided to turn his down. Ron had said she had gone nutter, but Ron had been saying that for a while.

Ron admitted to a small crush on Hermione, unit he met a sprightly Hufflepuff named Emma Dinwiddie. Harry was renewing his on again-off again relationship with Ginny Weasley, and thus Hermione was alone, as was the natural order of things.

Not that she minded being alone – on the contrary, she preferred it. She found too much social interaction to be a distraction from her schoolwork. But sometimes…

She looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn't ugly. She had long outgrown her mousy looks, chipmunk teeth, and this summer, her mother took her to a Muggle hairstylist in London, where her thick brown mane was finally tamed. Even Mr. Weasley had mentioned how pretty she looked over the summer. "Hermione, I reckon you'll be scooped up in no time," he had said.

"If it were only that easy," she sighed to herself.

~~

Severus Snape glanced out the window towards the lake. Its mirrored surface hid the cold, dark depths. Severus sometimes entertained the thought that if every professor at Hogwarts were a real part of the landscape, he would be that lake. He stared at the students, picnicking underneath trees; having friendly games of a Muggle sport called football; the younger children playing hide and seek.

"All these children, running around…what do they know about life?" he sneered. "The poor fools. Less than a year ago, they all could have died. One man held their lives in the palm of his withered hand. They've been given a reprieve, but they squander their gifts. Idiots."

He drew the blinds, muttered a soft curse, and then sauntered towards his desk. He sat down in the chair, preparing to gather the essays on wormwood that the fourth year students wrote into his briefcase and take them to his private office. It was at that moment that he heard her.

"Pr-Pr-Professor Snape?" It was almost as if she was afraid he would hex her. "May I have a w-w-word with you?"

Severus turned. Standing in the doorway was Hermione Granger. She looked terrified - her knees turned towards the other, and her lower lip was quivering.

"A student who isn't a complete waste of oxygen," Severus thought to himself. He nearly smiled, but suddenly scowled. "Miss Granger?"

Hermione stared, dumbfounded. Did she almost see a smile cross the man's face? Was he amused at her apprehension?

"Miss Granger, if you are going to stand there like a statue, could you please put a more pleasant look on your face?"

"Yes, sir, Professor Snape…sir." She was overcome. Harry was right. Snape certainly didn't want to teach her anything; he would just as soon strike her dead!

They stood, staring at one another for a moment, each wondering what they other was thinking. The professor broke the silence. "Miss Granger, you have five seconds to say something or else, get out," he said curtly.

Hermione's mind was racing. She found that she couldn't open her mouth to save her life. _I'm blowing my chance!_ she thought. She could hear a chorus of Ron Weasleys in her thoughts: _Bloody stupid git!_

"Excuse me?" Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. He shot an icy look her way.

Her hand shot to her mouth, and her stomach rapidly felt like lead. "Professor Snape, I didn't…I mean…I wasn't…oh!"

The professor snarled. "Indeed? You are wasting my time, Granger. I'll pretend your little outburst didn't happen." He waved his hand and sat down, believing that with this gesture he would make it clear he had dismissed her.

"I want to study Occlumency!" Hermione yelled, partially out of fear, partially out of anger.

Snape's gaze instantly met hers. "Did Potter put you up to this?" 

"Harry told me n-n-not to, Professor. He said you'd be mean to me."

"Of course I'll be mean to you, Granger," he said in a mocking tone. "I'm great, greasy Snape. Isn't that what Weasley calls me? You will have to pay the price for your cheek. Thirty points from Gryffindor, and if you open your smart little mouth to protest, I'll take more. Get out, Miss Granger." He rose to his feet and closed the door in her face.

Every day for five days, Hermione travelled the length of the dungeon to Snape's office, always asking to study Occlumency, and always Snape slammed the door instead of giving her an answer. A few heated arguments, along with close to fifty more points taken from Gryffindor, but still Hermione pursued him. Early Saturday morning, Hermione appeared at Snape's door, ready to make her case before him once again.

"Professor, I would like to discuss this with you," she said, putting her foot in the door before he could close it.

Snape took a deep breath. Granger's persistence was wearing him down, and he wanted to get it over with. "Come in, Miss Granger."

"Professor Snape, I want to study Occlumency. I have discussed this with both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore, and both have said that I can. It's up to you, sir." Hermione said, her fear having vanished.

"What do you know about the subject?" Snape said wearily.

"Only what Harry has told me, sir."

 "Tell me, honestly. Why do you want to study Occlumency?"

Hermione flinched. "I…I just want to learn, Professor."

His eyes burned into her. "Miss Granger…you do realize that means hard work? More studying that you can imagine?"

"Yes."

The potions master sighed. He sounded very tired. "You are aware that studying Occlumency means you will have to spend extra time with me?"

She swallowed hard. "Yes."

Snape moaned. This would prove to be interesting. Her bravery – or was it stubborn foolishness? – was admirable, it impressed him greatly.  "Very well, Miss Granger. By your sheer love of learning, and that alone, " he warned, "you have convinced me. I will speak to the Headmaster, but you must report to Professor McGonagall immediately and tell her of your…new activities."

She looked up, a slight grin on her face. Snape assumed his most disdainful posture. "Miss Granger, you are most peculiar. Now get out."


	3. Great Lengths

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 2 – Great Lengths

TWO MONTHS LATER

Lessons always began promptly at seven. Hermione dashed into the classroom, hair askew, fully expecting Snape to yell at her for being a minute late. To her surprise, he merely smirked.

"Miss Granger, you work too hard."

Hermione smiled slightly. "I would think you would approve of hard work, Professor."

"I do. But life isn't all about work, Miss Granger," he replied.

"The faster we work on this, the faster I go back to my quarters."

Snape nodded. "Shall we start, then?"

He aimed his wand at her. She was aware of his presence, powerless to stop him as he ransacked her memories; her cousin Jeremy throwing rocks at her…her father telling her the B on her report card was an utter failure…a boy saying he'd rather kiss a pig than be her Valentine. Hermione fell to the ground, sniffed slightly but did not let on that she was upset.

Severus mercifully stopped. He knew that this art was the pinnacle of violation, and he respected that. He was surprised at her mental toughness. It was wrong of him to keep intruding upon these thoughts, obviously so painful to her. He felt a small twinge in his heart. Facing her intrusion into his mind would be difficult. 

Hermione stood to her feet and straightened her robes. "Legilimens!" she cried. This time, it was her turn to be surprised. She saw a woman, impossibly elegant, with long flowing hair, and beside the woman stood Snape, dressed in old-fashioned clothing.

Snape immediately closed his mind off. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. "Did you see how I closed my thoughts to you, Granger? You must learn to do the same, or else this is a waste of both our time."

Hermione stared into his eyes. He looked tired. He looked sad, not at all like her idea of what a forty-something man should look like. There was no trace of kindness or happiness. It was the face of a man who had seen only the worst of the world.

Once again, Snape pointed his wand. He didn't see much. Hermione was learning fast. He put the wand away and waved his hand as a dismissal. "Miss Granger, you're doing quite well. I'll see you next week." 

~~

Hermione walked from the dungeons slowly. Professor Snape had changed. She didn't know why; she could never break the barrier he put around his thoughts. "Maybe," she thought, "he's finally realizing I'm not Harry or Ron."

She had been working on Occlumency so intensely that she had almost let herself go. The hair she had worked so hard to control had started to grow out again, and a bit of the frizziness had returned. She had misplaced her good shoes, and was wearing old scruffy saddle oxfords.

The boys didn't pay any attention to her, not that they ever did. Mr. Weasley still said she was pretty, but he seemed to be the only one. In fact, she thought it was only because Mr. Weasley was like a second father to her that he mentioned anything at all.

Then there was Snape. These few months of seeing his memories and thoughts made her realize that the professor was much more than the one-dimensional former Death Eater that Harry and Ron made him out to be. She had always known that he was multi-faceted, but now she was convinced that there was a part of Snape that he hid from the world. The man no longer leered at her in what she'd consider an evil way, (in fact, he stopped doing that after what was since known as The Row) but he was spending more time simply staring. Before it would have creeped her out, but now…now Snape didn't seem like such a bad guy.

~~

Standing in front of a small mirror and carefully drawing gossamer-fine threads, a portion of the fabric of his life, Severus began depositing memories back into his mind from his pensieve. Granger had been able to crack his thoughts on far too many occasions. Like her friend Harry Potter two years before, she had glimpsed scenes of Snape's pitiful childhood and school years. He wasn't furious with her, as he had been with Potter. In fact, the encroachment of his memories by Miss Granger scared him.

And that scared him more than anything.

Hermione – why not call her by her given name?  - was nearing eighteen. He had noticed she had been changing. All students mature and grow, but she had a real presence. She was lovely…yes, lovely. Far more attractive than any Slytherin girl, and better than the rest of the Gryffindors. He wondered why that boy from Durmstrang had let her go, and why Potter and Weasley didn't seem to appreciate the unusual beauty that lay in their midst. It wasn't her large, clear eyes and amiable smile that made her a true prize. Even gawky, freckled, smart mouthed Weasley could get a good looking girl in that Hufflepuff, but no one had an intellect superior to Hermione Granger's.

When she had first entered his classroom so many years before, he detested her. She was exceptional, so eager to please her teachers. He considered her a know-it-all, and he hated know-it-alls. He hated them because he was one, at that age. He saw people like Ernie McMillan and Percy Weasley as pretentious boobs who used their knowledge, or supposed knowledge, as a weapon in the war of one-upsmanship; but those like Hermione Granger, individuals who were too smart for their own good, he felt a type of pity for. Hermione was finally able to break free of her sheltered, nerdy station in life by becoming friends with Potter and the young Weasley. It was something Severus himself could never do, and that made him jealous of the girl. Yet, he admired her strength of character, a purely Gryffindor trait, but one that he wished he would have had during his Hogwarts days. She was a devoted friend to her fellow Gryffindors. She seemed to genuinely care about others. Usually Snape found those traits repulsive, but in Granger, he thought it was splendid.

Then Voldemort appeared with fury and glory, and petty jealousies meant nothing in the wake of the end of the world. Severus begrudgingly admitted that Potter, Weasley, and Granger had proven themselves to be the fiercest of allies in the struggle against He Who Must Not Be Named. During the ball celebrating the Tri-Wizard Championship, Hermione appeared in a stunning ball gown, her hair sleek and smooth. Everyone at the school was transfixed by the transformation, including Severus himself. In the years afterward (subsequent to Dumbledore reinstating the Order of the Phoenix) Severus found himself working with the children more and more often. Severus now found himself a secret agent, keeping tabs on Death Eaters while not betraying those fighting for good. It was an unenviable task, one that Severus thought torturous. He didn't know what to make of his feelings towards Hermione Granger, except the fact remained that she was no longer only a student to him. He didn't know what she was, really, except he felt the urge to fill his pensieve with his entire mind so she wouldn't see a hint of his thoughts.

~~

"I don't know what to do. When he looks at me, I feel…"

"You feel what? Nauseated? Like you need to scrub with bleach?" Ron said teasingly.

Hermione glared at her friend over the chessboard. Ron smiled at her, stuck out his tongue, and watched her move a knight toward his bishop.

"He's...kind to me. It's like he sees right through me."

Ron scratched his head. "Have you gone mad? Could it be, Hermione, that it's because he's reading your mind on a regular basis?"

"No. I mean…I don't know what I mean."

"You sound like you have a crush on him." Ron feigned a delighted expression.

"I do not!" she said defensively.

"Please, please tell me that you do not have a crush on bloody Snape!" Ron exclaimed. "Anyone but Snape. For god's sakes, run off with Crabbe or Goyle. Run off with Draco. Fall in love with Percy for all I care!"

"I'm not in love with anyone," Hermione answered truthfully.

Ron sat for a while, staring at the game board. "Right, then. I think I'd rather kiss Crookshanks than hear that you might like Snape."

When Ron first talked about Emma Dinwiddie, he blushed furiously and nearly vomited. Could he really be trusted to give solid advice about matters of the heart, especially when they were concerned someone he hated? In these situations, it was usually the other way around, with Ron sitting in the chair like an idiot and Hermione supplying the answers. What would he do, for instance, if she casually mentioned that she thought Snape's eyes were attractive? If she told him that she thought Snape's scent - an intriguing mixture of oranges, bay rum soap, and rainwater – was pleasing to her? What would her closest confidante say if she told him she sometimes thought, in brief daydreams, of putting her hand in the professor's?

"It's your move."

She jumped, interrupting the flow of thoughts. "Excuse me?"

Ron patted her hand gently. "It's your turn. I'm sorry I snapped at you, mate. I know you'll never do anything stupid like fall in love with Snape."

She distractedly moved her queen. Ron meant well, and she loved him for it, but there wasn't anything about Snape she could tell him about. There was no place to turn except within her. She focused herself back onto her friend, who beamed from ear to ear.

"Checkmate."


	4. A Disturbing Reflection of Self

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 3 – A Disturbing Reflection of Self

"Miss Granger, it is imperative that you meet me after class."

Hermione answered with a nod of the head and went straight to work finishing labelling her work. N.E.W.T. level Potions was the most difficult class Hermione had ever taken, but somehow it didn't seem so bad. Her partner was Draco Malfoy, who was even more unpleasant than in years past, if it were possible. His father being in exile didn't improve matters, and it didn't help that the son blamed Hermione and her friends for the situation. Draco sabotaged the girl every chance he had, and Snape usually took his side.

No matter how (as Ron's girlfriend Emma would say) Snapeish Snape was being during potions, during their tutoring sessions he was civil, almost courteous. He was no Professor Flitwick, but…somehow he was no longer Snape.

The students all left the dungeon, leaving Hermione alone with the Professor. He casually strolled toward his charge. "Miss Granger, you are improving so much in Occlumency, I thought, perhaps, we could take this opportunity to work on your potions."

"Professor, you know that Malfoy…"

"You should charm your cauldron so he won't be able to muck about in it," he said, with the slightest bit of humour. "I assume you have thought of this, Miss Granger?"

Hermione allowed only the faintest of grins. She had thought of this. "And you would have allowed it?" she started.

"Of course!" Snape barked. "Gryffindors are so incredibly obtuse at times." He turned from Hermione, with a small smile upon his lips.

~~

Thirty minutes later, Hermione was adding the last of the ingredients in her cauldron. "Diluted infusion of crushed larkspur…two drops. There."

Snape's robes fluttered around him as he turned towards his student. The bubbling liquid swirled with a beautiful golden hue. It was perfection. "Well done, Miss Granger." He bottled some of the potions in a large vial and quickly rid the cauldron of its contents. "You may go, if you wish."

"We still have thirty minutes."

"Very well," he replied. "If you will…indulge me, I would like to ask you a few questions."

Hermione stared at her feet. Snape asking questions always meant points from Gryffindor. She would be careful, she thought, as she nodded her acceptance.

"Why are you studying Occlumency?"

She registered her annoyance. "Professor. I've told you once before…"

"Answer the question!"

She gulped. "I wanted something impressive on my transcript, a guarantee that I'd make it into a good school."

Snape was not prepared to hear that. "Hermione, are you aware that for twenty years, there hasn't been a Hogwarts student as solidly impressive as you?" he asked slowly, the usual sarcastic sneer absent from his voice.

Hermione scoffed. "You don't have to patronize me!"

The professor interrupted her. "Indeed?" She was speechless. He continued. "If Potter and Weasley were one-eighth as brilliant as you, well…they wouldn't be failing N.E.W.T. level potions, would they?"

She shook her head yes. Snape was being unusually complimentary. Was he dying or something?

He smirked. "Miss Granger. Tomorrow I want you not to come to our tutoring session. Instead, I would ask you to see Professor McGonagall."

"Why?"

"I no longer wish to teach you. It is as simple as that."

"Professor, I don't understand! Am I not a good student?" Hermione looked crushed.

Severus looked her square in the eye. "Miss Granger, you are an excellent student. In fact, you're the finest student I've ever taught. But that's neither here or there. There are some things I just cannot teach you."

She turned her back to him, as if she was going to leave the classroom. Severus actually felt sorry for her. She would never understand…

"I will not."

"You will not what?"

She turned around and raised her voice, as thought it would change his mind. "I will not report to Professor McGonagall!"

His eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch. Granger had a backbone of steel underneath that delicate exterior. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"Is that what happens when a Gryffindor does well in your class, Professor? You take points from their House?" she asked haughtily.

"Miss Granger, I would advise that you leave immediately before I give you detention."

"I need this class! You don't understand!"

"No, you don't understand, Miss Granger! I don't want to teach you Occlumency anymore."

Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying, and also to keep from cursing Snape's name. She stood straight and looked him directly in the eyes. "Then you are a coward."

"Out! Get out, Granger!" he raged, sounding to Hermione rather like a rabid dog. She picked up her wand and ran toward Gryffindor Tower, but instead found herself outside. The night air was perfumed with sweet honeysuckle. She had never noticed the true beauty of Hogwarts before this evening. The trees seemed taller and strong, the castle itself more like a shining jewel nestled in the English countryside. Hermione slipped off her shoes and strolled barefoot in the lush grass, her mind racing. She had known better than to arouse Snape's anger. She instantly regretted calling him a coward. 

There was no one around, and the moon looked so serene. She kept wandering towards the Forbidden Forest, staring at the stars. Suddenly, she felt something behind her, and warm breath on the back of her neck.

"Hello…_Mudblood_."

~~

Severus began walking toward the lake, his mind lost in thought. The velvet night enveloped him, much like his billowing black robes.

Damn her! What the hell was wrong with him? Granger, of all people? Potter would rage against him; Weasley would more than actively plot his death. McGonagall would wonder if he'd gone mad. Even Granger herself might recoil in disgust.

These last few months of seeing her every other day, seeing her thoughts, feeling her fears, her hopes, learning her moods. She was unlike anyone he had ever known. Sure, there had been girls he fancied during his early years at Hogwarts; a crush on Lily Evans, a brief flirtation with a fifth year Slytherin; a few ladies of the night picked up during his tenure as a Death Eater. No one seemed to spark his soul or even soothe his loneliness.

Severus glanced down at the Dark Mark. Every once in a while he could feel he dull pain of Voldemort's curse surge through it. As much as he hated to admit it, he could sympathize with Harry Potter's own brush with the power of the Dark Lord. But whereas Potter survived with his youth and vitality intact, with his life in front of him to do whatever he desired once his foe was defeated, Severus no longer had that luxury.

Voldemort had known Severus' weakness – loneliness. Sadness. Here was a man who had nothing to lose and everything to gain by joining forces with him.

_Join me, Severus. Sit at my right hand. You will be as my son. You will have a family.  A real family_.

Family. It sounded unreal. The pain of life was almost unbearable, and he wanted to do anything to belong to someone who would care, even if that someone were Voldemort. He didn't realize that following the Dark Lord would mean dying to self and giving into the wizard's every plan when he joined. His life was no longer his. He gave that privilege up long ago, to that foul man who promised the glories of Hell and instead gave him the deepest Hell.

The hooting of owls stirred him to the present. Was it so bad that he would resort to thinking of his days of the Death Eaters before facing the reality of Hermione Granger? He shook his head, cursing himself. He looked at the mark again. "It's good I have it with me always," he spoke softly to himself. "A reminder to never again search for love." Whatever it was he felt now, towards a girl – a student! – he wanted so much to hate, it was bewildering. 

As he wandered into the still night, he thought he heard the murmurs of a struggle. A younger girl whimpering for help…it sounded like _her_…

"It's your mind playing cruel tricks on you," he thought.

The rustling of leaves caught his hear. Something was wrong. He softly walked towards the forbidden forest, his mind full of the one thing he wished to forget.


	5. Deliver Me From Evil

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 4 – Deliver Me From Evil

Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy. She looked in his eyes but saw nothing but his black heart. A cold sneer crossed his face.

"Filthy Mudblood! Because of you my father is in exile! The Malfoys are ruined!" He spat at her viciously. "Granger, you dirty, disgusting…"

The fear in Hermione's eyes stopped Draco's speech. "You're afraid!" he laughed. "No Potters or Weasleys to save you now!"

She opened her mouth to scream. "Silencio!" Malfoy exclaimed. "You can't get away from me, Granger. Do you wish to be blessed by a pure blooded Slytherin? Or maybe, shorten this ridiculous Muggle life?"

She found that she couldn't move from fear. His venomous words, his actions, his movements, no being able to call for help or move…facing dementors wasn't as frightening.

Malfoy snarled at her, a sly grin creeping over his face. He tore at her robes savagely; taking glee in the fact that no one could hear her plead for her life. While she trashed around, he took a length of rope and tied her hands. Her constant struggle chaffed her wrists, until a small amount of blood began to appear. Malfoy took pleasure in it. "You'll pay, Mudblood," he whispered. "I will get my pound of flesh!"

Hermione began to panic even more. What was he saying? She began to twitch with trepidation. Draco, in a complete frenzy, bit at her, drawing even more blood. A few slaps to the face caused the fear-stricken girl to lie still, waiting for the inevitable. She closed her eyes. "Please…please someone help me!" she screamed within her tortured mind.

~~

Snape stalked towards the forest as stealthy as a cat. His years of working at Hogwarts had caused him to look the other way when students dallied in the bushes. He had caught careless ones before, usually amorous Hufflepuffs, and always took points from their respective houses. The clever ones (usually Slytherin House students), the ones who took great care to hide their passions, he respected; and gave warnings to instead. He saw a shapely pair of legs sticking out from beneath the bushes, a cloak lying nearby. The metallic scent of blood caught him by surprise. As he walked closer, he could hear whispered epitaphs…Mudblood pricked his ear…something just didn't seem right.

Lucius Malfoy's son was kneeling over a girl, a girl he couldn't quite see. He had caught young Malfoy on numerous occasions before, but this time he seemed strangely ferocious. When Severus and Lucius were students at Hogwarts, Severus spent most of his time in the library while Lucius, a bit of a ladies' man, knew all the places to hide on campus. Severus thought it was curious that Draco would not have learned from his father. He certainly acquired everything else Lucius once had. Like his father, Draco was a Lothario, having bedded every Slytherin who would have him. Severus pondered who the little harlot was. She was unusually quiet, and he had a sneaking suspicion perhaps it wasn't sheer bliss that kept her silent.

"Legilimens," Snape muttered -

_Help me! He's placed a silencing spell on me! He's going to kill me!_

"Hermione!" Severus exclaimed. Hermione's eyes grew wide. The potions master flew into a rage, knocking Malfoy over and covering Hermione with her own tattered cloak. He turned to Malfoy, seething with anger, and performed a paralysing spell on him.

"I will deal with you later, Draco," Severus whispered ominously.

He walked toward Hermione and scooped her up in his arms. As Severus carried her toward the castle, he looked down at her. Her hair was muddy and matted down, small pieces of twig lodged in the clumps of frizz and muck. She squeezed her eyes shut, silent tears spilling onto her dirt-smudged cheeks. He stopped and placed her on the ground. She was as wobbly as a newborn giraffe. He reached out his hand to steady her, paused for a moment, and then untied her wrists. She immediately began pacing and held onto her own arms, awkwardly trying to comfort herself.

Severus couldn't help but see her as a frightened animal at this point. She was at her most fragile. He knew better than to interrogate her about the ordeal, but his natural tendencies took over.

"Granger, what just happened there?"

She shook her head and pointed toward her mouth.

"Of course, the silencing spell. Do you know which one he used?"

Hermione shook her head no. Severus sighed. "Please forgive me, Miss Granger," he said softly, as he primed himself to enter her thoughts again.

He saw Draco Malfoy behaving in a disgusting manner, snarling, spitting, and a base look on his face. _I will get my pound of flesh, Mudblood._

Severus trembled. He knew exactly what Malfoy was planning on doing. Hermione was right. He was going to try and kill her, but he wanted to degrade her in the vilest way imaginable first.

"Miss Granger, I won't try to counteract the spell that Draco placed on you. It could do more harm than good. I will just take you straight to Madam Pomprey."

Hermione looked at him with pleading eyes and glanced toward Malfoy's prone body as if to ask about Snape's plans for the Slytherin. Severus grimaced. "Don't worry yourself about it. Draco Malfoy will get what is coming to him."

~~

After alerting the Headmaster of the situation, Severus slowly walked back to the thicket where Draco lay frozen, silently cursing the boy. He knew that Lucius was a perverse man, but he didn't realize that the younger Malfoy was also as twisted.

He stopped and glanced toward the lake. "I should just throw Draco in the lake right now," he said to himself, "and then the little bastard would drown."

The small voice of his conscience stopped his train of thought. It's exactly what Lucius would do. It's exactly what Voldemort would do. "It's what my father would have done," he replied.

He looked down and saw Draco. His eyes were narrowed, cold, calculating, as if he would kill him given the chance. Severus bent down and looked him in the eye. He could see Draco's resolve weakening. Regardless of the fact that he was no longer a Death Eater, Severus Snape was still dangerous to cross.

Snape whispered in Malfoy's ear. "Are you afraid I'm going to treat you like your father does? You're mistaken. I'm much worse than your father ever thought about being. Haven't you wondered why I don't have any children of my own?"

Malfoy flinched. Severus stood up and kicked the dirt near Draco's head. He stifled a laugh. "You should feel rather fortunate, Draco. I've decided that I won't beat the holy hell out of you."

He grabbed Malfoy by the neck and hoisted him to his feet. Snape uttered the counter curse that restored Draco to free movement.

"Professor Snape, I will tell my father about this!" Malfoy shrieked.

Severus, upon hearing the threat, began to laugh hysterically. "Oh, please do, Draco! I'd like to see what he could do to me!"

Severus marched Malfoy toward the castle, berating him and constantly threatening him. He walked into Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Sinistra, and Hagrid, the half-giant gamekeeper, were waiting for the duo to arrive.

"Take Mr. Malfoy outside and wait for further instructions, Minerva," the headmaster instructed. McGonagall and Sinistra grabbed the student by the arm and dragged him into the hall.

"Professor Snape," Hagrid said, "It's a good thing you were stalking 'round the grounds, aye?"

Severus sat in a chair. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, and his brow furrowed. With disgust, he told the headmaster everything he had witnessed and was able to glean from Hermione herself. "He was…so vicious. It was sickening. Disgusting, and…Hermione…"

Hagrid, flushed and sweating, shook his head with rage. "I'll make sure Malfoy comes nowhere near 'Ermione ever again." With that, he was gone, on his way to deliver Draco to Ministry of Magic authorities.

When the groundskeeper had left, Dumbledore looked at Snape with kind eyes. "Is there something I should know about you and Miss Granger, Severus?"

He cleared his throat. "Quite honestly, sir, I'm not sure." He ran his fingers through his greasy hair and shook his head. "It's not important."

Dumbledore smiled. "Maybe you should see her."

"I don't think that's wise. I think, maybe, I should just leave her alone for a while."

"Is that what you think she'll want?"

Severus looked down towards the floor. "I think that's what I want."

The wise headmaster smiled thoughtfully and began to gnaw a Chocolate Frog. "Very well, then."

~~

Hermione lay in her childhood bed, clutching her pillow. Everything had happened so fast. First, a breathless Ron stood by her side in the hospital ward, swearing vengeance, then a bleary-eyed Harry hugged her and gave her a fleeting kiss on her forehead, before she heard the echoes of his vomiting. Suddenly, she was asleep, and before she knew it, Ginny Weasley was giving her a teddy bear to cuddle and saying goodbye to her. Professor McGonagall had escorted her home, at least she thought she did, and explained to her mother what had happened. Days turned into weeks; she wasn't sure how long she sat in her darkened room, reliving every horrible torturous moment of Draco's attempt on her life.

One thing kept popping to the forefront of her mind. Snape. What was he doing there? Was he following her? And why did he call her name like an anguished lover?

When she slept, she dreamed of him. The wry smile on his face during some of their tutoring sessions; the soft tone of his voice when he congratulated her on a job well done. Then that unspeakable night – and the professor's eyes filled with horror.

"I must be hallucinating," Hermione told herself. "Why would Snape care about me?"

She called Crookshanks to her and began to stroke his fur softly. While she wanted to stay in the comfort of her bed, she missed her friends, she missed Hogwarts, and to her amazement, she missed Professor Snape.

Her mother opened the door to her bedroom. "Hermione, you have a letter here. Would you like to read it when I bring in your lunch today?"

"Actually, I was thinking I might join you for lunch today. May we have it in the garden?"

"Yes, dearie. We'll have your favourite when you were a little girl. Brie and spinach, if you like."

Hermione smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. "That sounds wonderful. And some Ovaltine, too, please."


	6. Fearful Symmetry

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 5 – Fearful Symmetry

Severus prepared a class of beginning potions by banishing three students to Dumbledore's office in the first three minutes of class. "I will not tolerate idleness in my classroom!" he roared. Students were running in fear from him, even Slytherins. He deducted fifty points from a Hufflepuff because she sneezed in his classroom. Grumblings in the school were that Snape had finally lost his mind.

The empty chairs near the back of the room called to Severus. While the rest of the classroom was filled with students, all putting salamander scales in their cauldrons, his mind was filled with the aching, trembling cry of Hermione Granger. It was maddening.

A Ravenclaw's potion exploded, causing her hair, and the students around her, to alight. Snape distractedly put the fire out and sent the entire class to Madam Pomprey.

Students had been whispering for weeks now…Professor Snape is the one who found her! What was he doing there? It was the common topic of conversation in the Great Hall. In fact, he had caught students trying to break into his office, looking for his pensieve to learn the truth. He took great care to empty the vessel during classes, but found it useful when he went to sleep at night. His dreams were becoming increasingly disturbing.

After lessons, Severus retreated to his lodgings, located at the far end of the Slytherin common. A large, comfortable chair sat in the corner of the room nearest the fireplace. A few threadbare tapestries graced the walls, but mostly the room was filled with rows of dusty books. He picked up one of them from a shelf. He cracked the spine of the thin volume and read the first poem he came to:

**Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright**

**In the forests of the night.**

It was one of his hidden pleasures, Muggle literature. Even while he was a Death Eater, swearing the destruction of Muggles and Mudbloods, he still thought about certain stories and poetry he had read. The experience reminded him of a story called Fahrenheit 451, in which the main character was supposed to demolish books but ended up saving them. He felt like that sometimes, having previously sworn to kill Muggles and now trying to preserve them…perhaps even love one.

Love was something Severus knew nothing about. His parents certainly weren't in love with each other. Raphael Snape and Etienne Aeschlimann married for power and money, and ended up with neither. Raphael, gambler and womaniser, abandoned the family when Severus was fourteen years old, having first drained any inheritance the Snapes once had. Etienne, who didn't want to mother anything, let alone a child, flitted from man to man until she died, when Severus was seventeen.

Life at Hogwarts wasn't much better. Cursed with the Snape hooked nose and the Aeschlimann complexion, Severus was rejected by girls and mocked by boys. Coupled with his intense shyness, profound intelligence, deficiency of social graces and lack of Quidditch skills, he became an outcast. After being essentially orphaned, he began spending more time with Lucius Malfoy, the lone person at Hogwarts who seemed to be sociable toward him. Severus knew that Malfoy was only after the prestige of being friends with the heir of the Snapes, but he didn't care. It was human interaction. Finally, he felt as if he was part of a family, not that the Malfoy lineage was a nice family to be a part of. Severus was drawn more and more into the realm of Lucius' domain, and finally, into the malevolent arms of Voldemort.

**…And what art? Could twist the sinews of thy heart?**

Family, Severus, we are your family…we can show you love.

**What dread hands? And what dread feet?   **

Family…You will be as my son… 

"No!" Severus cried, waking from his slumber. Cold sweat dripped from his neck; the Dark Mark throbbing. Finding the tome gripped in his hands, he shook his head and rummaged around for a stiff drink; anything to get Voldemort, his personal Tyger, out of his mind.

~~

Hermione,

When are you coming back to Hogwarts? We all miss you. Harry and I know that you will graduate with us, you already have more credits than we do combined. Do you want to meet us at the Burrow for Christmas? Owl me as soon as you can.

Love,

Ron

Hermione re-read the letter from Ron. They missed her. They wanted to spend the holidays with her. She nibbled on her Brie and spinach sandwich and finished the last of her malted Ovaltine. Mrs. Granger sat across the patio, working on an Impressionist painting of the neighbour's rose garden.

"Mother? I want to go back."

"So soon? I was starting to get used to having you here. It's so quiet now."

Hermione bowed her head. Since her father died in a freak accident last fall, she felt guilty returning to Hogwarts, surrounded by people and things she loved, when her mother had no one. Her mother had been a gregarious woman. It was Hermione's father who enjoyed solitude. After her father's death, Hermione noticed a drastic change in her mother. No longer the outgoing social butterfly she had been, her mother became more and more withdrawn, and rarely paid attention to Hermione, who was so much like her father.

Pigwidegon fluttered to a low branch in the rowan tree outside of Hermione's window. She knew that Pig wouldn't leave until she gave the owl a response to Ron's note. She gave her mother a kiss and ran upstairs to her room, where she promptly threw open the curtains to allow the light into her room. She cheerfully gathered up parchment, quill and ink and scribbled a letter to her friend.

While she was strapping the note to Pig, she spotted a peregrine falcon soaring through the air. The large bird landed near her window, and held out its leg to her. Hermione could have sworn that the falcon curtseyed to her, and then it turned and flew away. She opened the parchment and saw exquisite, meticulous handwriting.

Miss Granger,

When you return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I would like to ensure your graduation. I will give you an extended course in Potions. This, of course, means we will no longer pursue Occlumency. I earnestly hope you are well.

Sincerely,

Professor Severus Snape

Hermione whistled low. "Professor Snape." She leisurely began to pack her trunk, silently thanking her stars that Occlumency was over.


	7. Trials Turned to Gold

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: My handiwork is based on the works of J.K. Rowling and her Harry Potter series of books. I am not affiliated with Rowling, Scholastic, AOL/Time Warner or its companies, basically anything having to do with the World of Potter. All rights reserved by the owners. Thus ends the Legalese.

Author's Note: Thanks to all who have read and posted their comments so far! I really appreciate it. Hopefully, I won't let anyone down. Things will be slowgoing – I'm trying my hardest to get over some terrible writer's block, and due to circumstances beyond my control, I have been unable to post available chapters at ff.net. Thank you for your patience.

By the way, the poem in Chapter 5 is called "The Tyger" and it's written by William Blake. Sorry this chapter is so short.

Chapter 6 – Trials Turned to Gold

When Hermione returned to Hogwarts, there was a celebration. Lavender Brown, Natalie McDonald, and Ginny filled the Head Girl's room with balloons. Gryffindor Tower was festooned with streamers and enchanted confetti that kept throwing itself in the air, a present from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Ron and Harry hoisted her up on their shoulders and paraded her around the common room. Neville Longbottom gave her a quick hug, smiled at her and offered to help her with Advanced Herbology (the only class in which he was good at). Even the Fat Lady gave Hermione a warm greeting.

She had never missed a place so much. The smiling faces of her classmates warmed her heart. Dennis Creevey and a few of his friends gave Hermione a large bunch of flowers that they had conjured up. She thanked them heartily, even though the colours were all wrong. She knew that the sentiment was real. Hermione was finally able to hug everyone, listen to them tell her how much they missed her, and then slipped away to her room. When she opened her window and smelled the fresh night air of the Hogwarts countryside, she felt like she had returned home. She let her room ventilate, then closed her window to keep the chill out. Exhausted, she fell into bed.

The next morning, she rose bright and early. The excitement of returning to school heightened her appetite. She met Ron and Harry in Gryffindor common and together they went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Rows of Gryffindors all stood to their feet in cheering the arrival of the trio, along with a large number of Ravenclaws and half of the Hufflepuffs. Only the Slytherins remained seated. Since the exit of Draco, the shifty group became even sneakier. Hermione went red in the face, and sat next to Ginny and Colin Creevey, who was busy taking her picture.

Ron, a self-described "bottomless pit", ate three soft-boiled eggs and a large spoonful of beans while Hermione helped herself to a large portion of waffles, smothered in butter and a dollop of orange marmalade. Food had never tasted so good.

When she looked up from her waffles, she spied Snape glancing at her from the Head Table. She looked him directly in the eye, and suddenly, the two were locked in a type of trance. She could see into his mind. He seemed to be thinking of her – she saw her tear streaked face after their encounter in the woods - then she saw the porcelain mask of the Death Eaters, with Snape's face peeking out from behind it. She gasped. Snape nodded and returned to his porridge.

"Wuff's dat a 'bot?" garbled Ron, whose mouth was stuffed with a pumpkin-almond scone.

"Just looking around," Hermione murmured. She looked toward the Head Table again. Snape was still looking at her, and she could have sworn that she saw his eyes become soft.

Severus knew his first mistake was to make eye contact with her. The memories came flooding back, and he knew that she would see them. God, why did it have to be this moment? Did she blush? Was she smiling at him? His second mistake was to linger on her countenance. She seemed so much more beautiful than before. He knew that she saw that grotesque death masque that he had to wear. The mask revolted him, and he wore it. He knew that Hermione would be disgusted. It was beyond hope. The Dark Mark began to throb, rousing Severus back to reality. He felt sick to his stomach. No matter what he did, he would always have the sting of the Dark Lord haunting him. He wondered if this nightmare would ever end, if Voldemort would finally be vanquished. If he would ever be free to live.

Dumbledore placed his hand on Snape's shoulder, his gentle pressure a balm to Snape's frayed nerves. "Severus, something weighs heavily on your mind. What is it?"

He rubbed his scar to stultify the pain. It was too much…Voldemort. Hermione. Love, hate; it was all too much.

"Nothing I can't handle." Severus had a feeling Dumbledore didn't believe him. In fact, he didn't believe himself.

Even with a month's absence, Hermione was still at the top of the class in every subject aside from Potions, and she was embarking on a weeklong session with Professor Snape that very evening. She was looking forward to the tutoring session, to be alone with him, to perhaps discuss what had happened. While she was gone from Hogwarts, Hermione wished desperately she hadn't given up her Time Turner to the Headmaster. "If only I could have gone back and made a distraction," she thought, "if only I would have stayed the course to Gryffindor Tower.

But then I wouldn't know that I love him." She was surprised at how easily the words came to her now. At first, Hermione thought that perhaps it was an infatuation, merely because Snape had saved her life. Then she realized that she had felt different about him even before that terrifying night. She thought back over the years, and suddenly, she felt ashamed about setting his cloak aflame her first year.

"He mustn't know, he mustn't know!" she whispered to herself over and over as she stalked the hallways of the dungeons to his classroom. When she entered the room, Hermione saw that she was alone. Ever since Draco's assault, she was afraid to be alone anywhere. Feeling like a trapped animal, she hurriedly ran toward the corner of the room, when she saw Snape in his ready room, labelling various jars of supplies.

It was astonishing to see the professor in something other than black robes and cloaks. Snape was almost unrecognisable. Hermione wondered why he didn't dress this way more often. He wore black linen trousers and a French cuff shirt in the Slytherin silvery-green. Snape's hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He looked warm and approachable. Hermione gasped. Snape turned to see who had entered his room, and upon seeing his student, he shut the door of his ready room. Two minutes later, he emerged; hair draped in front of his face, wearing his usual attire, as if he wanted to erase the pleasant image entirely.

"You're early, Miss Granger."

"I was hoping to speak with you, Professor Snape."

Snape lifted a cauldron onto the desk in front of him. "What do you wish to talk about?"

Hermione suddenly felt anxious. "I wanted to talk about…that is I would like to talk to you about what happened."

Snape drew a sharp breath. The inviting and accessible man from moments before had transformed into his usual indifferent self. She was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. "Miss Granger, what's passed is past. I have no urge to discuss what occurred."

And with that, Hermione knew the conversation was finished.


	8. The Lonely Villa

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 7 – The Lonely Villa

Christmas break arrived, and Hermione was looking forward to spending the holiday with the Weasley family. She was no longer upset about not spending more time with her mother. She was increasingly absent from Hermione's life, and Hermione felt that perhaps it was for the best.

She always felt tingly when she had to travel by Floo Powder, but since people could not Appariate from Hogwarts, it was the only way to get to the Burrow, a place she had long considered her second home. Ron and Harry were already at the Weasley house by the time Hermione arrived. There was never a more joyous occasion at the Burrow than Christmas. Once she crossed the threshold of the mantle, she looked around her. The house was filled with presents, evergreen boughs and trees, the smell of baking, and scads of red heads running around boisterously. Looking up towards the Weasleys clock, she saw that everyone except Mr. Weasley (whose hand pointed toward "Work") was there.

"Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, and ran to hug her. "I'm so glad you could make it. Tell me, love, is your mother all right?"

"Yes. She just wants to be alone this year," Hermione said.

Charlie and Bill came in from outside, caked with mud and gasping for breath. "We were just chasing gnomes," Bill chortled, as he waved to Hermione.

"Oi! Look who made it!"

"George! How's it going?"

George peeked at her through his hand knit sweater. "Great. Fred's upstairs. He's working on an exploding snap that will play Christmas carols. We hope to have it ready by tomorrow, we're testing it on Percy now."

Hermione smiled. The Weasley twins, while always vexing in school, were actually two of her closest friends. She envied their joie de vivre, and their willingness to disregard the rules. At times, she wished she were more like them. She left the kitchen area and went upstairs towards Ron's quarters. The room hadn't changed much since the first time she had seen it. The Chudley Cannons poster was still on the wall, along with a Gryffindor banner, and a pair of moth-eaten socks, obviously given to him by Dobby. A picture of Emma, blowing a kiss, was on his bedside table. Harry and Ron sat on the floor, playing Wizard's Chess.

"Hermione! I've found someone who actually pays attention to play chess with me."

Harry looked up and grinned. "Happy Christmas."

Hermione sat next to Harry and glanced at the chessboard. "Ron's going to beat you."

"Ron always beats me. I don't understand how people say he's daft…"

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly.

"…Because he's brilliant at chess." Harry smiled and moved a rook.

Hermione stared at the game pieces, remembering what Ron had said to her months before – you'd never do anything stupid like fall in love with Snape. She surely couldn't tell them now. Maybe she would wait until they were out of school. Maybe she didn't have to tell them at all!

"Hello? Anyone home?"

"Oh, sorry, Ron. I was just thinking."

Ron declared he was starving, and went down to the kitchen, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the bright orange bedroom. Harry grabbed her hand. "What's wrong? I can tell something is, Hermione," he murmured. The concern in his eyes was evident.

She sighed. "I really don't know, Harry…I can't tell you."

"Does it have anything to do with Ron?"

Hermione laughed. "No. Nothing to do with Ron."

"Has it anything to do with Crookshanks?"

"No, my cat is fine. I'm fine, Harry. You have to trust me."

Harry stared at the floor. "I think I know. You are in love."

Hermione's mouth dropped. She fumbled for words, but Harry interrupted her. "Who is it? I won't tell. I promise," he teased. "Is it Percy?"

She leapt to her feet. "I'm sorry, but I just can't tell you."

Ron came back up to his room, turkey sandwich and pickles in one hand, a bottle of butterbeer in the other. Hermione brushed by his shoulder and ran towards the safety of Ginny's room.

"Hey!" Ron yelled after her, pieces of turkey flying out of his mouth. "Wure's te fire, 'Ermnee?"

"Not fair!" Harry exclaimed. "I told you all about Cho!"

Another lonesome Christmas. Severus hated the holiday season since before his father disappeared. To Severus, Christmas was but another day in which people who hated each other spent more time screaming at one another. It made him yearn for a place to belong to. In fact, it was around this time that he first thought of joining the Death Eaters.

During the holiday season, Severus usually stayed at Hogwarts, but this year, he went to his ancestral home, the only vestige of history he could cling to. The Italianate villa, soft beige stucco with red clay tile roof, was a rambling old building on chaotically manicured 20 acres. Severus lived there alone, save one elderly house-elf named Gromnett. Severus had emancipated the elf before he became a Death Eater but the servant stayed on, pledging his devotion to the heir of the Snapes.

Once, the villa had been exquisite, with spectacular Antiques and invaluable fine art, but that was before Raphael abandoned the family. Etienne sold most of the paintings, and allowed the furniture to fall into disrepair. Severus had to beg her to keep the marble statues of his Snape predecessors. It was only after Etienne died that Severus was able to buy back a few of the priceless works of art that had once been his by birthright.

After he joined the ranks of the Death Eaters, Severus left the pied-à-terre in the hands of Gromnett, and went to live in a cramped hovel near Voldemort's lair further in country. He had wanted to separate his childhood home from his new adult life. Now he was happy he made that choice.

Severus walked around the grounds, surveying his many trees. He loved trees. In the Muggle world, he thought he would have been an arborist. It was during these quiet times when he was on his own with he most majestic handiwork of Creation that he felt closest to fulfilment. It was also when he feared being alone most. All he seemed to do was think about Harry Potter.

Potter. He still burned with loathing for James, and still did not trust the son, but he knew deep down that Harry wasn't James in any way except for his unruly hair and Quidditch skills. He also knew that Potter did not care for him, either, but still he continued to save him. Why was it that his existence rested solely on the shoulders of a person he reviled?

Severus thought about Hermione Granger. No doubt she was happy on this day of celebration, spending the holiday with Potter and the Weasleys, enjoying pies and stews and receiving those horrid sweaters from Molly. Not for the first time, Severus was envious of the tight-knit clan, wishing that every year he had a warm, jovial place to return to.

He returned to his ruined villa, sank to the granite tile in the foyer, and wept.

**TWO WEEKS LATER**

Hermione was never more delighted to return to Hogwarts after her excursion to the Burrow. The constant bustle of Weasleys, tracking gnomes, flying haphazardly on brooms and causing various household items to become enchanted was exhausting. The serenity of the Head Girl's room seemed like an extravagance now.

She had written to Viktor Krum inviting him to her graduation ceremony, and received the reply while she was at the Burrow via a large Arctic gull. Harry, who kept asking her if it was Viktor she was in love with, and Ron, who fumed with anger every time the Hungarian's name was mentioned, shadowed Hermione every time she wanted to read the note. With her return to the privacy of her Head Girl room, she was finally able to read the response he had sent. She could almost imagine him saying it to her.

_Hermione, I am so sorry, but I cannot make it to your graduation. I will be doing some special Quidditch camp in Switzerland, but I hope you have a very nice time. Maybe we can see each other soon. With all apologies, Viktor._

She tucked the letter into a toile box, where she kept all of the owl posts he had sent to her. She tied the ribbon keeping the lid on the box, and placed a jinx on it in case someone snooped in her room. Since Harry and Ron were not allowed in her room, she didn't have to worry about them reading Viktor's letters, but there was Ginny, who thought having such an exotic and famous owl pal was the most exciting thing a person could do.

Opening her windows to let fresh air in, she took the opportunity to look out over the landscape of Hogwarts. Gryffindor Tower had a perfect view of the grounds, almost as good as the Astronomy Tower. Hermione noticed the lake. After being tied to a post at the bottom of it, it no longer held the mystery it once did. She looked closer. Even with its eerie stillness, it was nonetheless extraordinarily beautiful. It made her think of Professor Snape – it wasn't all it seemed to be at the surface, either.

Hermione took Crookshanks in her arms and cradled him. She saw a tiny flicker of light near the shore. Someone was down there. She wondered if it were Harry and Ron on some escapade, underneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak, looking for something to play a practical joke on Emma and Ginny. She had told no one about her emergent feelings for Snape, despite nearly blurting them out to Ginny during Christmas holiday. Her overwhelming fear was that Harry and Ron would find out and desert her.

Hermione remembered what Ron had told her so many months before, and that was just his jumping to conclusions. If he knew the truth, Ron would likely murder her and the professor both. Harry was a different story. He would know exactly what she was going through. He had the constant problem of people believing his godfather was a mass murderer. People always believed the worst about Sirius Black, sometimes even the worst about Harry himself. Hermione knew that he would understand that you cannot choose who you love. On the other hand, she also knew that there was no one, save Voldemort himself, that Harry detested more than Professor Snape. He would never forgive his best girl for falling in love with his most hated foe.

Staring out into the darkness, she knew that she was in an impossible situation. It was all so confusing. All she knew for certain was that, in a few months, she would be leaving Hogwarts forever, and possibly never see Snape again. A year ago, she would have been ecstatic. Now, it seemed the worst possible thing to happen.

Severus sat in his chair, absentmindedly reading a well-worn copy of Lord Byron. He ran his hands through his hair. It was still damp from the bath, having properly scrubbed himself after a long day of potions. Severus stroked his temples, feeling as though he had not slept in weeks. "She walks in beauty, like the night," he said, as he closed the tome.

"She walks in beauty," he repeated, as he filed the book away on his shelf. He went back to his leather chair and plunked himself down. He took a small elastic and pulled his hair back. _If I could touch her_, he thought_. If I could merely embrace her, just once, maybe I would be sated…it's_ improper! _But it's not, Severus. She will no longer be your student._

He tried to quell his inner dialogue, but he kept coming to the same conclusion. The reason he could not stop thinking of Hermione Granger was because he was in love with her. The thought stopped him dead in his tracks. He took a piece of parchment, a quill, and bottle of ink, wrapped himself in a long cloak, and started outside towards the lake.

Severus spread the cloak on the ground near the banks of the pond, muttered an incantation for light to write by, and started to put onto paper what he had been fantasizing:

**Oh! Woman fair!**

**If I could be thine**

**I would consume the pain**

**To make thee wholly mine.**

He stopped and looked up towards Gryffindor Tower. When was the last time he had strolled to the lake, quill in hand, and written a poem to a girl who lived in that very tower? Had it truly been more than twenty years? He looked at his hands. They were still long, graceful, and strong, but with rough calluses and dry patches that belied his profession. He could remember so many years ago, when he was still a young man, when his hands were smooth and silky. He had everything in front of him – a brilliant career in Defense of the Dark Arts with the Ministry in his future, perhaps even a life of travelling the world – and he had thrown it all away, for what? Voldemort? He paused and looked at his hands again. He was suddenly queasy at the sight of them. He used those hands to aid Voldemort. He used those hands to brew the potions that killed so many innocent people. There was nothing pure and good about him, and there was only good and purity in Hermione Granger.

Severus glanced back at the parchment. The ink had begun to bleed due to the dampness of the grass seeping through his cloak. He sighed and moved his paper.

**For you are what you are,**

**And I am Slytherin.**

He shook his head. "Hermione…" he quietly uttered, knowing she would not hear his whispered ardour for her.

**Let us rend the veil**

**That separates them.**

"If only I could," he thought, thinking about the young girl who consumed his thoughts. It seemed so unlikely, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, but if anyone could defy logic, it was Hermione Granger.


	9. Farewell, My Lovely

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! It's appreciated greatly. Also, to clear up a small controversy from a previous chapter, _Etienne_, the name I've given to Snape's mother, can be used for male and females. Enjoy.

Chapter 8 – Farewell, My Lovely

Two by two, the graduates marched into the Great Hall, having received their diplomas. The students stood near their families and invited guests. The great banquet tables had been cleared away, leaving room for the crowd to gather in the centre of the room. Small tables were located around the perimeter of the room; festive decorations hung on the walls and levitated in the air.

The graduation ceremony was well attended. The entire Weasley clan arrived, including Percy (George and Fred, who last stepped foot into Hogwarts two years prior, were dressed in outrageous chartreuse robes emblazoned with violet polka dots, with not even an initial to distinguish between the two.), as well as Fleur Delacour (who was Bill Weasley's guest) and Remus Lupin, who had come on Harry's behalf. Hermione's mother was there, also, but no one recognized her. She had deteriorated to the point of being a ghost. Her skin was pallid; her hair was severely short and she wore a long, black dress. Hermione was embarrassed that she came.

"Hermione, lovey, is that your mother?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, the disbelief evident on her face.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, it is my mother. She's…" Hermione struggled with words, "She's been quite ill."

Harry and Ron, who were as shocked as the Weasley matriarch, paid their respects to Mrs. Granger, who soon disappeared into the crowd and was nowhere to be seen. Hermione thought it for the best. In the months since the attempt on her life, she had grown increasingly distant from her mother. As she had told Harry, "One might think that almost being murdered would cause a pair to grow closer, but it seemed to drive her away."

From the shadows of the High Table, Severus watched the tableau unfolding, and was immediately transported to his childhood. No father, a mother who was uncaring and possibly mentally unstable, and a lonely gradation ceremony at Hogwarts…it would have been a scene from his own life. "She deserves more" he thought, and squeezed his eyes to contain himself.

Dumbledore stood away from his chair, drunk from mirth, his eyes twinkling with inner laughter. "Students, parents, may I have your attention?"

The crowd of revellers stilled to hear the headmaster speak. Many of the students had a few tears in their eyes, for they knew it would be the last time their friend and mentor Albus Dumbledore would address them as Hogwarts students.

"Today, we celebrate the accomplishments of our Seventh Year students, as they go onto apprenticeships, entering the workforce, or an exciting life somewhere out in the vast Wizarding world. Wherever you may roam, I hope you will always remember that Hogwarts is your home. Should you decide to return someday to teach, to visit, or to see your own children graduate, I hope you will fondly recall the many trials and tribulations you've faced, the merriment you've had, the important lessons you've learned, and the lifelong friendships you've made. To Hogwarts!"

The entire assembly cheered. "To Hogwarts!"

Severus lifted his glass. He scanned the crowd, looking for Hermione, and found her standing near the Weasley children. She was resplendent in a gold brocade gown, draped with a scarlet velvet robe. She wore her Gryffindor colours proudly, he thought. She was a vision amongst the many students dressed in black, Potter and Weasley included. A few flashes of purple, silver, and green would appear, but there was no beacon that shown brighter than Hermione.

The last few months of classes, she eluded him, constantly fleeing the class as soon as she could, ducking down corridors to miss running into him. While he thought it was odd, he could understand her fright and anger. She wanted to talk about that night. It was perfectly understandable. She had wanted to show her appreciation to him for saving her life, and it was something he was not prepared to hear, even now. Severus knew, however, that if he didn't go to her now, to allow her to thank him, he would regret it.

Hermione embraced the Weasleys, all of whom were as excited about her and Harry graduating as they were Ron. She smiled weakly, torn between the happiness of starting on the new path to adulthood and the sadness of leaving her beloved Hogwarts. She wondered how she could rectify the two. Further troubling her was that she wanted to somehow talk to Professor Snape before she left. She had yet to discuss that night with him, and her soul longed to express her gratitude to him.

She excused herself from the grasp of Charlie, who had bear hugged her and Ron, and proceeded to make her way toward the edge of the crowd. She bumped into Lupin's elbow.

"Sorry, Remus," she said.

Lupin smiled at her. "Congratulations, Hermione!" he said, then turned to give a hug to Harry.

Hermione walked towards the dungeons. She had seen Professor Snape saunter down in their direction. Maybe she could catch him and say farewell. When she reached his classroom, she paused. Why was she doing this? He had said before that what had passed was past, and he preferred to keep it that way. She was acting like a child. Hermione turned to walk away when she heard him call to her.

"I know why you're here," Professor Snape said quietly.

To Hermione, it felt like it did the day she asked him to instruct her in Occlumency. She felt emboldened, yet nervous and uncertain. "I wanted to tell you how appreciative I am that you did what you did," she replied.

"It was nothing."

"It meant everything in the world to me. You saved me, Profes…"

"Severus. Please, Miss Granger, call me Severus."

Hermione flushed. It was a degree of familiarity she was not accustomed to when talking to teachers. "All right, then. Thank you, Severus."

Professor Snape stared straight into her eyes. She found his eyes entrancing. They were dark, but had flicks of amber coloured light in them. They were beautifully mysterious, and looked to her like some of the potions they had worked on together. She drew closer to him, inhaling his scent.

"Miss Granger, I…I want to apologize."

Hermione was taken back for a second. Snape, apologize? "Why?" she whispered.

"For this." Then he softly kissed her cheek.

Severus lingered on her cheek for what seemed like ages, but was in actuality a few seconds. He never realized how supple Hermione's skin was, and how good she smelled, like talcum powder and gardenias. He stared at her, secretly hoping for time to stand still in that perfect moment.

The look on her face surprised him. The last time he was kissed a woman was thirteen years prior, and she had screamed in terror. Hermione, on the other hand, smiled. She put her hand on her face, softly caressed her cheek, and gazed down, as if she enjoyed his kiss. He lifted her face towards his. "Hermione," he said brusquely, as thought saying her given name was a sin in and of itself.

To his wonder, she put her hand in his. What came next was a revelation; a tender, sweet kiss, full on the lips. She paused. When he opened his eyes, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Professor!" she sobbed as she turned and ran out of the dungeon.

"Wait! Please, I beg you," Severus cried, as he attempted to follow her, to tell her there was no reason to be contrite, to tell her to please kiss him again. When he reached the stairs, all signs of Hermione Granger were gone, with the exception of her warm, pleasing scent lingering in the air.

It was at that moment that Severus realized exactly what had happened. Hermione Granger had kissed him, and of her own accord. That was why she had avoided contact with him in the hallways. Perhaps she felt the same way he did about her. It would be a blessed miracle, to be sure. He stood in the foyer, leisurely sucking his bottom lip, savouring Hermione's kiss, her taste on his lips. He wasn't certain when he would have a chance to speak to her again, but he wanted to relish every touch, every word until then.

He waited until late that evening to discuss what had happened. He made a journey to Gryffindor Tower and stood outside Minerva's office, and was about to turn around and go back when he heard her scratching at the door.

He looked down and saw her in her animagi form. She crooked her tail and he entered her office. She transformed and sat in her cosy chair, opened a tin of biscuits and nibbled daintily on one.

"Severus, it's unlike you to come here to my office. What's going on? Here, have a biscuit."

Severus fidgeted with his collar and cleared his throat a few times. "Minerva, what I have to say is rather shocking. I've, erm…" he paused and cleared his throat again. "I have developed feelings for a student."

Minerva paused, the hand holding her cookie stopped midway to her mouth. A look of shock belied her composed voice. "And do I know this student?"

He leapt to his feet, pacing back and forth in the office. "That's the problem! It's a…" He ran his hands through his hair, the drooping locks falling in front of his eyes, clouding Minerva's probing gaze. "It's a Gryffindor."

McGonagall's lips curled into a feline smile. "Miss Granger."

"Is it that obvious?" Severus asked.

"No, it's not, but I am your colleague, Severus; I am also Hermione's teacher, and her friend, as well as her house guardian for the last seven years. I understand her as I would one from my own flesh. Are you sure you don't want a biscuit? It's buttery shortbread."

Severus shook his head again. "I cannot believe this."

Minerva dunked her treat in a cup of tea. "I think this might be healthy for you."

It was Snape's turn to be taken aback. "Minerva! Surely, you don't mean…"

"Now, Severus, when was the last time you felt this way about a girl? Since your school years? I remember when you were in your youth. You were much like Hermione, but you didn't have the good fortune to make such devoted friends, or swallow your pride." Severus sat, dumbfounded, as she continued.

"You're been in that dungeon, hiding from the world since you've escaped Voldemort. Have you made any friends? Have you endeared yourself to anyone? Your own Slytherins do not admire you; they only fear you. I knew this day would come eventually."

Severus coughed. "But, a student! And a Gryffindor!"

Minerva smiled. "Rather seems like that Muggle Shakespeare in a way, doesn't it?"

"It's more than that. I think she may have feelings for me, too."

"Really? How so?"

Severus paced even more. "She kissed me."

Minerva dropped the biscuit in her tea.


	10. Waifs and Strays

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

Chapter 9 – Waifs and Strays

Hermione returned to the little house on Dorsett Lane. Her mother had placed herself into a mental institution not long after Hermione's graduation from Hogwarts. Hermione and Crookshanks continued on by themselves for a while, until one evening Hermione came home after attending a Weird Sisters concert in Knebworth and found her ginger cat dead on the floor, having asphyxiated on a mouse. Hermione was alone with her thoughts and nothing to buffer them.

It had been three weeks since she last saw Professor Snape. He had not tried to contact her. Hermione had sent a letter via Pig (Ron had let her borrow the owl for the summer), but when he returned, there was no answer. She started to think that perhaps the tender kiss they had shared was an aberration.

She took the opportunity to pour through her mother's personal articles. Her mother seemed to be clinically depressed, and would be in the hospital for a long while yet. Hermione thought, in case of something else happening, it would be a good idea to know where everything was in the house.

She found her baby book, a leather notebook with "The Tale of Hermione Eurydice Maris Granger" embossed in gold on the front. Hermione Eurydice Maris Granger. It had a certain intellectual sound to it, she thought. Her parents knew she would be an extraordinary child and therefore gave her an extraordinary name, but she often wished they had named her something normal like "Audrey" or even something boring like "Edith".

Looking through the book, seeing pictures of her father holding her up on his shoulders with her laughing, smiling mother looking on, Hermione felt a sense of isolation she had never felt before. There were no family, no friends, and no cat to share her life with. For the first time in her life, she knew exactly how Harry had felt for so many years, and it caused her pain. What puzzled her most of all was the feeling that she would gladly give up all of what she missed just to be near him again.

"Please, Miss Granger, call me Severus," he had said, and she wondered if it was an invitation to take him into her heart.

Severus Snape. It was an extraordinary name, too. She questioned whether his mother and father knew he would be a remarkable man, if Severus was a family name, if he hated it as much as she hated her own name.

Severus fled Hogwarts as soon as his duties allowed him. The dungeon was no longer his own realm, but a place of cruelty where he lived Hermione's kiss over and over.

The ancestral manor seemed even more ramshackle and despicable. He walked around the grounds, snipping dead branches off of his numerous trees and generally releasing his frustration out on the helpless plants. Humming Mahler's Symphony #5 loudly, and with every note pruning more and more off of the tress, Severus tried to escape the constant reminders of Miss Granger.

When he returned to the house, Gromnett had started a fire to ward off the slight chill of the sea breezes, and set a tureen of soup out for his master. Severus was glad to have Gromnett's company, even if he was a house-elf.

Coming back to his childhood home was always difficult. He loved the land. His family was fortunate enough to have planted thousands of trees around the terrain, mixed with the fresh salt air and the rolling hills. It looked like a fairy tale, but the vexing memories, the constant roar of the ocean mingled with the roar of his uneasy mind was nearly too much for him to grasp.

He had received an owl from Hermione the week after classes ended. The parchment was tattered now; as he had read it constantly since the day he got it.

_Dear Severus,_

_I am writing to you to ask if you would kindly write a letter of reference for me to a few universities. I have enclosed a list. Since you have tutored me in many subjects, I thought you might understand me better than some of the other teachers. Actually, I know you do. I'm sorry I ran from you, but I was afraid. I am still afraid, but I think we can be good friends, if we try._

_Ever your Hermione_

It was such a simple note, but it said so much to Severus. When he first read it, he thought it was just a letter asking for a few references, but upon further scrutiny, he saw the deeper meaning in it, not the least the way she ended the missive. _Ever your Hermione_, as if she wanted to be his.

Severus tried to write a letter back, but each one became epistles of love, which he wanted to stay away from. He even tried to write a few letters for the magical universities she had listed, but those, too, turned into an admission of devotion on his part.

"This is the most loathsome emotion," he thought.

The owl hovered in front of the television, waiting for Hermione to take the message strapped to his leg.

"Blasted owl! Move, I'm trying to watch my programme!" Hermione hissed, as she endeavoured to shoo the bird towards a table.

It was the first letter by owl post she had received in almost a month. Harry was spending a blissful summer with the Weasleys, travelling to Romania to visit Charlie. Ron and Harry usually sent postcards, but for some reason, they didn't during this trip. Hermione was glad for the missive, but agitated that the owl kept flying in front of EastEnders. "Bloody owl! Land already!"

She plucked the letter off the owl's leg and saw the tight, loopy scribbling. "Ron," she said, smiling broadly.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Harry and I are having a great time. We've seen Norbert (remember him?) and Charlie's taken me, Harry, Fred and George to Transylvania to look for Lupin (he's hiding out up here for the summer. This place is crawling with werewolves!). Ginny and Mum have sent me owls asking if I've heard from you. Maybe you should send them a note? They really miss you. Sorry I haven't written, but we've just been so busy. Write back and tell me about your summer._

_Love,_

_Ron_

_P.S. We saw some statues of Vlad the Impaler and he looks a lot like Snape._

Hermione sighed. Even out of school, Ron couldn't help but put Professor Snape down. She wondered if there would ever be a time in which Snape wouldn't be a running joke with Ron and Harry. She turned the television off and grabbed her baby book. Flipping through, she saw a snippet of hair, her first tooth, a footprint in purple ink. She smiled. Those were easy days, before she knew about witchcraft and Dark Lords and Norwegian Ridgeback dragons.

_"Dad, catch me!"_

_"Hold on, precious!" He spun her around like a helicopter._

_"Lionel! Lionel, be careful! Don't hit her head on the tree!"_

_"Maris, are you ready? You have the camera, right? Take one of me throwing Hermione in the air…"_

_"Daaaad…catch me!"_

_A large amount of bushy hair flew into the air, giggles effervesced. The young man smiled. He had a slight overbite like his daughter. "Hermione, my precious, I love you."_

The soft hooting of the owl brought her back to her senses. Hermione wiped a few errant tears away. She gave the owl (perhaps Charlie's, she thought) a liver treat and he flew away. Hermione closed the baby book and turned the television back on. It was classics hour, an ancient episode of "So Graham Norton" flickering on the set. She groaned.

"Brainless. I wish I were in Romania."

She sat down at her desk and composed a letter, not to Ron, but to Severus.

_Dear Severus,_

_ I wanted you to know that I've also sent an owl to Professor McGongall about the referral letters, so if you need to discuss anything with a fellow teacher, you can contact her._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger_

"There. Short and businesslike," she said. She strapped the letter to Pig's leg and tossed him out the window.

"Stupid girl!"

Severus threw the parchment toward the roaring fire. It licked the edges of the paper greedily. He ran his hands through his lank hair.

"Gromnett, please draw me a bath. I have a lot of thinking to do."

The house-elf bowed low and scurried towards the master bathroom. Severus took a book down from his shelf and began reading. He noticed something about love being Divine.

"Ruddy Victorians," he glowered. He put the book back in its place and walked into the bathroom. The large porcelain tub was filled with steaming water, causing the room to fog up. Severus discarded his robes and sunk into the bath, dipping his head back to wet his hair. Drops fell into his face, but he ignored them.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind, but all he could think of was Hermione, her face streaked with tears, her soft lips on his. He stuck his face in the water quickly, and then funnelled the water away from his eyes. Severus took a bar of bay rum soap and vigorously scrubbed his skin, then delicately skimmed over the top of the Dark Mark. The soap foamed, acting as a cauterisation of the mark, filling Severus with searing pain as it faded from view. Severus grimaced, then placed his arm into the warm water. The pain eased. He lifted his arm up, and watched as the mark slowly began to darken. He stood up and dried himself off, slipping his nightshirt on and pulling his hair back. "Every time, I think it might go away," he said wistfully, as he stared at the symbol.

The telephone roused Hermione from a fitful sleep. She rubbed her hands over her eyes and glanced out the window. It was still pitch black. "Granger residence," she said sleepily.

"Harmony Granger?"

"It's Hermione…"

"Pardon. Hermione. My name is Gillian King. I am the administrator at St. Teresa's Home. Could you please come down as soon as possible?"

Hermione swallowed hard and breathlessly answered that she would be there as soon as she could. She rose from her bed, and quickly slipped on a pair of dungarees and a soft purple t-shirt bearing the crest of Viktor's Quidditch team. Running downstairs, she grabbed a granola bar to munch. Hermione wished that she could legally Apparate near Muggles, or that St. Teresa's Home was connected to the Floo Network. Then she remembered that if even it were connected to the Floo Network, she never bothered to buy any Floo Powder. She called a taxi service, then took a train to Bristol. Once she arrived at the station, she found a bus, and arrived downtown at the mental institution that held her mother.

The sun had risen long ago; the last sweeps of purple and gold were fading from the sky. It was a perfectly cloudless day, unparalleled in its midsummer beauty, Hermione noted as she entered the building. It was a sterile white and green coloured hallway, cinder block walls and no ornamentation. She approached the nurses' station and asked for Gillian King. A blond, short, stern faced woman walked out of the door behind the nurses' desk.

"You must be Hermione Granger. I'm Gillian King."

They sat in Ms. King's office, the harsh fluorescent lighting reflecting off the frosted glass panels in the windows. Gillian grimaced and looked at Hermione straight in the eye.

"Miss Granger, I'm afraid I have some rather unsettling news. It's your mother."

"She's dead, isn't she?" Hermione said without feeling.

"Yes. She's committed suicide. We found her this morning. She had taken her bed sheets off and hung herself by the bars in the window. I'm very sorry."

Hermione sat stoically. "Did she leave a note?"

Gillian shook her head. "Nothing. I'm really very sorry."

Hermione stood and turned to the door. "I would like to see her."

Gillian nodded. "She's in our morgue for now. I wanted to know if there is a particular funeral director you'd like us to use? Do you have any idea what she would have wanted?"

"Cremate her. I don't have a lot of Mug…er…money, so it doesn't matter who you use. I can scatter her ashes near where my father was buried. I'm sure she would have wanted that. Don't bother calling me when it's finished. I will be back to town in a few weeks and I'll pick her up then."

Ms. King smiled faintly. "Miss Granger, I'm sure this is hard on you, being so young and all…"

"No, I expected it. My mother died when my father did, Ms. King. It's only her body that's gone now. You don't have to worry about a memorial service. I will just call people and ask them to come to my father's graveside and we'll say a few words there. You can come, if you like."

"No. I didn't know your mother. A few nurses tried to get close to her, but she refused. Kept saying her daughter was a witch, though." She flinched. "They told her that wasn't a nice thing to say. I am surprised at how disturbed she really was there towards the end."

Hermione paused. "Really? What was she saying?"

Gillian twiddled her thumbs. "Oh, something about the soul being sucked out of her. People with schizophrenia often feel that way. She kept moaning something about Lionel. I assume that's your father. He's deceased, correct?" Hermione acquiesced. King continued, "She would also scream out odd names in the middle of the night. One of our third shift nurses, Matilda, kept asking if there was anyone named Harry in her file."

Hermione wondered why her mother, who seemed to have lost touch with reality, would ask for a boy she barely knew. The thought of her mother's torment sent ice-cold daggers into her spine. "She asked for H-h-Harry?"

"Yeah. Name seem familiar to you?" Gillian opened the door of the morgue room and ushered Hermione inside.

"Sure. My best friend is named Harry."

"Your mother seemed to think that he could help her. Poor bird," she clucked her tongue. "Well, here she is. I hope this isn't too traumatic for you."

Ms. King slid the sheet back to expose Hermione's mother. Hermione had to fight the gagging reflex she instantly felt as soon as she saw her mother's body. She was waxy, pale, and her face was fixed in a masque of terror, as if she didn't want to die but was forced to. Something about the way her expression was set didn't seem right to Hermione. She turned away, and the sheet was pulled back over the lifeless body of Maris Granger. Hermione wondered if it truly was symptoms of schizophrenia that led to her mother's death, as Gillian King had said.

When she returned home, she gathered up a few things and stuffed them into a duffle, grabbed Pigwidegon's cage and began to walk down the street towards the bus stop. There was no way that Hermione would stay alone in her house. She wanted someone to talk to. She wanted someone who could care for her. She needed to get to a train station, she needed to get as far away from Dorsett Lane as she possibly could, and there was only one place she could think of.


	11. Fled

Castaways on a Sullen Sea

By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: Please see Chapter One.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for all the reviews. I appreciate everyone taking this story to heart. Hopefully, I won't let anyone down. Forgive the delay in posting new chapters, but this is still very much a Work In Progress, slow going at best. Thank you for your patience, and enjoy chapter ten!

Chapter 10 – Fled

Like Potter's scar on his forehead, anyone who possessed the Dark Mark could feel when the Dark Lord was angry or joyful. Severus' magical tattoo had burned for days, and in the middle of the night, it exploded with pain. Since that moment, Severus had sat in his parlour, trying to figure out what could cause Voldemort's sudden rush of emotion.

Gromnett presented his master with a bowl of lemon custard and berries for breakfast. Severus smiled weakly. He swallowed a mouthful of crème and blueberries when a flash of light and a puff of smoke left a rolled up parchment at his feet. Severus picked up the letter, which was bound with dark red wax, and discovered a phoenix feather lying on the floor. It was the mark of Dumbledore, who must have sent Fawkes, his trusted phoenix, to deliver the message. He found a newspaper snippet taped to a piece of parchment, with a note scrawled beneath it that read, "It has begun again."

The newspaper clipping was interesting in that it was a Muggle paper. Severus frowned. He knew exactly what it meant as soon as he saw the headline. He started to read it when he noticed the name of the deceased as being Maris Granger. He sat up straighter and paid better attention to the picture that ran with the story. The hair was longer, the face not as tired looking, but it was certainly Hermione's mother. The Muggle press has written that she had hung herself with her linens. It gave time of death as the early morning hours – exactly when Severus' mark began to burn. He knew, then, that Voldemort or one of his followers had killed defenseless Maris Granger. He also knew that the same Death Eaters would be after her daughter. He jumped to his feet, causing the bowl of berries and custard to crash to the ground. Gromnett flinched at the noise. Snape ran to the house-elf and softly patted his head. "I will be going on a short trip, Gromnett. Please watch after the house while I am away."

Snape ran to his bedroom, where he threw on a cloak and tossed a handful of Floo Powder into his fireplace. He cleared his throat, and jumped into the flame. "18 Dorsett Lane," he said calmly.

---

Severus had poured over the Granger home, looking for any sign of Hermione. He sat alone in the darkness for an hour, rummaging through a few drawers and closets until he realized that Hermione must have left. He hoped that she left of her own accord, and that his former colleagues, the Death Eaters, had not found her.

He was about to leave the house when he heard rattling at the door. Alarmed, he hid behind a curtain in the front hallway, as the rattling at the door grew louder. Suddenly, the knob blew off and a short figure walked into the foyer. Severus peeked out of the side of the curtain. He saw that it was Tonks, the Auror. Her hair was short, spiky and coal black. She wore a black turtleneck and a pair of ripped-up Levi's. "Who's there?" she growled, clutching her wand tightly.

"Tonks, it is I, Severus Snape," he said slowly. He saw the apprehension on her face melt away.

"Wotcher, Snape!" she said brightly. "Seen Hermione, have you?"

He shook his head. "No. She's not here."

"Hmm. That's a problem. I'm supposed to find her and take her to the Ministry of Magic headquarters."

"She won't be safe there," Severus said. "She's got to be somewhere that the Dark Lord won't dare show up. Of course, she might be on the run somewhere, and she's not safe that way, either."

Tonks stared at herself in a mirror, squinted her eyes and her hair suddenly turned carrot orange. "Huh! I look like a Weasley, mate. Don't you think?" She stopped and turned towards Severus. "Weasleys…you don't think she would be on her way to the Weasleys, do you?"

"I certainly don't think she'd be going to Potter's house!" he exclaimed as he ran up the stairs to Hermione's bedroom, Tonks following close behind. On the desk, Severus found a letter from Ron Weasley and read it aloud. Tonks stifled a giggle when he reached the line about Vlad the Impaler. He ignored the auror and pocketed the parchment in his pocket.

"Tonks, are you able to get in touch with Arthur?" Tonks nodded. "Good. Do it quickly, then," Severus said.  "I'll contact Professor Dumbledore."

---

"Molly, I've heard through the rumour mill that Hermione's mother is dead," Arthur said. The Weasley patriarch had returned home from his job at the Ministry of Magic, briefcase in hand. Arthur worked closely with Muggle relations, and usually heard interesting tidbits about various Muggles. He sat down on the soft, comfortable chair in the family room, where Molly sat quietly knitting a scarf. She dropped her needles into her lap.

"Arthur! That's not true, is it?"

He hung his head low. "I'm afraid it is, Mols. They're saying she hung herself in the Muggle press, but Shacklebolt thinks otherwise."

"Shacklebolt? What – d-d-do you mean maybe?" Molly's face turned pale.

"Dementors, maybe. Or perhaps even…well….You-Know-Who."

"Bless my socks!" Molly exclaimed. "The poor girl must be scared to death. We've got to help her, Arthur."

Arthur sighed. "I've already tried. We sent Tonks out to Dorsett Lane, but I haven't heard anything from her yet. My gut feeling is that Hermione's fled."

Molly burst into a torrent of sobs. "I can't stand it! She's all alone out there, Arthur. Where is she going? She must be frightened out of her mind."

Arthur crossed the room and gently embraced his wife, who continued to wail uncontrollably. He tenderly kissed her on her forehead. "Shhh. She'll be okay, Molly. She's a clever one, she is. I wouldn't be surprised if she's found a place to hide out."

Ginny Weasley ran down the stairs, interrupting the warm moment between man and wife. "Mum! Dad! There's someone coming up the walk!"

Molly stopped crying and grabbed her wand, Arthur following after. "Stay here, Ginny," Molly whispered, as she and her husband slowly began to walk outside.

Arthur looked out in the distance. He saw a figure carrying a large piece of luggage and a minuscule owl in an enormous cage. "Mols, set your wand down. I don't think it's a person who'd hurt us."

"How do we know for sure?" She squinted her eyes and fixed her gaze on the mysterious visitor. "D'ya think it's Mundungus?"

"No, we'd've smelled him by now."

The figure glanced up toward the house, and suddenly began to run toward the Weasleys. The tiny owl hooted raucously.

"Mr. Weasley! Mrs. Weasley!"

"Hermione! Oh, love, you gave us quite a fright!" Arthur called. He scooped the girl up and hugged her tight, followed immediately by Molly.

"I hope I haven't come at a bad time. I have no place else to go."

Molly wrapped her arm about Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione, you know you are always welcome here. It's a little quiet without my boys. Come on, let's have some dinner."

Hermione placed her parcel in Ginny's room and put Pig back into Ron's room. When she came back downstairs, the table was set and garlanded with fresh flowers. Arthur was busy making an apricot fool for dessert, while Molly was standing guard at the stove.

"I haven't gone shopping in a while, with the boys gone and everything. Ginny doesn't eat nearly as much as Ron or the twins. I hope you like shepherd's pie, dearie. I kind of scrounged up a lot of leftover bits and made the topping from yesterday's mashed potatoes." She took out a tattered copy of Witch Weekly. "Looks like the only thing I need now is some bread. Arthur, could you slice some for us?"

Mr. Weasley smiled and flicked his wand gently toward the cupboard door. _"Partitionus baguette!"_ A small loaf of French bread fluttered out of the cupboard and neatly tore itself into four pieces, landing on the bread plates on the table. The rest of the bread flew back into its rightful place in the kitchen.

"Wow! Mr. Weasley, that's really great," Hermione marvelled at the ingenuity of a self-slicing loaf of bread. "Did you learn that from Witch Weekly?"

Arthur grinned broadly. He helped Molly place the shepherd's pie on the table and poured a few glasses of milk. "No. It's an old Weasley technique. It's been passed down to us by our fathers. It especially comes in handy when there's seven children running around." He winked at her and took his place at the head of the table.

Ginny took a generous portion of pie and began picking the small pearl onions out. She threaded them on a toothpick. Hermione asked what she was doing, to which Ginny replied that the owls loved pearl onions, so she gave them hers. Molly and Arthur stole glances at one another over the flowers. Hermione noticed that Mr. Weasley had a drop of milk on the end of his nose that refused to come off. Molly fretted over the quality of the humble dinner. Hermione smiled. This was the thing in her life that she missed most – a family.

After the second helping of apricot fool, Molly went to bathe, Ginny went upstairs to write a letter to Harry and Ron, and Mr. Weasley and Hermione sat in the family room. Mr. Weasley had a copy of The Daily Prophet by his side. He opened the paper, then just as suddenly laid it on his lap.

"Hermione, love, I know. It's okay. You can tell me exactly what happened, if you want."

Hermione gasped. "But, Mr. Weasley, how did you…"

"You forget I work with Muggle Artifacts on a daily basis. I do have to keep in touch with the outside world, especially with You-Know-Who running amuck out there. One of the blokes down in Muggle Relations sent for me after he read about your mother in the newspaper. He thought it was peculiar."

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. "But…why? I mean, my mother was sick. Why would it be peculiar?"

Arthur rubbed his temples. "Hermione, you remember how You-Know-Who did what he did, right? All those terrible curses and such, dementors, things of that nature. I'm sure you don't know about this, but the fellows in Muggle Relations have been keeping me abreast of the situation out there. There's been a rash of suicides in the last few months, especially of those Muggles who have wizarding ties of some sort. It's been pretty hush-hush. The Daily Prophet wants nothing to do with it. The Quibbler stopped running the stories, too. No one wants to hear about some poor Muggle who blew his own brains out when there are wizards out there who might be in cahoots with You-Know-Who."

"But why would they be killing themselves, Mr. Weasley? I don't understand."

"They aren't killing themselves, love. They are being systematically murdered."

Hermione leapt to her feet. "Murdered? Murdered! You mean to tell me that my mother was…she was killed by one of those Death Eaters! Why?"

"I don't know," Mr. Weasley said simply.

"What did my mother ever do to Voldemort?" Hermione raged. She could hear Molly shriek upstairs at the sound of the Dark Lord's name.

Arthur embraced Hermione as she wept bitterly. He smoothed her hair away from her face. "It's all right, love. I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but we'll stop him. Have you contacted anyone, any family?"

She shook her head. "I don't have any family, Mr. Weasley. They are all dead. You and Mrs. Weasley, and Harry, you're all I have left."

Molly entered the room, her skin still damp from the shower she was taking. She held Hermione close and gave her a small kiss on her forehead. "You are welcome here as long as you wish to stay. I just want to talk to Dumbledore, see if we don't need to get you to some sort of safe house."

Hermione looked up at Molly. Her eyes were swollen from tears. "Safe house?" she whispered.

Arthur handed Hermione a handkerchief. "Molly's right. If it really is the Death Eaters who killed your mother, you might not be safe here. I'll contact Albus tonight."


	12. Refugee

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: Hasn't changed since chapter 1, if you'd be so kind as to read it there.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know that there's some fairly predictable plot points, but, honestly, isn't that the best part of a Severus/Hermione pairing? Anyway, thanks for all of the reviews. It helps stimulate me. Still slow-going, but hopefully, I'll get the ball rolling. Enjoy chapter 11.

Chapter 11 – Refugee

Dumbledore looked as dour and exhausted as Hermione had ever seen him. These long years of the war between he and Voldemort had finally taken its toll. He took Hermione's hand and sat with her in the Weasleys' parlour, while Molly and Arthur sat close by.

"Miss Granger, I must say that I knew I'd see you again, but I hoped it would be under happier circumstances."

Hermione sniffed back a tear. "There is nothing we could have done, Professor Dumbledore. My mother was gravely ill."

"So you believe that she did commit suicide?"

"I really don't know. She was suffering from schizophrenia and she was seriously depressed. I was half expecting it. But when I went into that room and saw her face…"

Molly blew her nose loudly into a tissue. Dumbledore patted Hermione's hand again. "What did you see?"

"It was frightening. Her face was so tortured."

Arthur exploded with anger. "She was tortured! I knew it."

"Now, now, Arthur, we don't know for sure. I haven't seen any evidence to prove that she was murdered." Dumbledore glanced down at Hermione, who was visibly shaken.

Molly stifled a wail. "Hermione, dear, I am so sorry you had to see that."

"It's okay. I saw my dad die right in front of my eyes. It's a relief that Mum died where she did." Hermione said listlessly.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Obviously, we don't know if Maris' death is an accident, or deliberate, one way or another. I suggest that Miss Granger go into hiding for a while, at least until we can find out whether or not she is in harm's way."

"Where should she go?" Arthur asked.

"Where do you think she should go?" Dumbledore countered.

Molly rose to her feet slowly. "No. No, she can't go there. She'd be miserable, much less treated terribly…"

"What?" Hermione looked around at the Weasleys. "Who would treat me terribly?"

"It makes perfect sense, Mols. Who else besides Dumbledore could provide her with that much protection?"

"Who?"

"He contacted me first, and I've asked him to shelter her. He has agreed in principle."

Molly's fist shook with rage. "How dare you not talk to us about it!"

Arthur grabbed his wife's hand. "We aren't her parents. We're not her guardians. No matter how much we love her, we have to make sure she's safe."

Molly sat in her chair and began to violently stab her knitting needles into a large ball of wool yarn. "You are delivering her to a den of wolves."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's the only way." He turned to Hermione and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Miss Granger, I can't tell you what to do, but I would hope that you have faith in me. Do you trust me?"

Hermione waggled her head. "May I sleep here just for tonight?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't know if that's the wise thing to do." He ignored the rumblings coming from Molly's side of the room. "I have brought a Portkey. Could you collect your things? I'll take you to the safe house from here."

Hermione turned and looked towards Arthur. The fear in her eyes was noticeable. Arthur smiled grimly. "I promise on my honour, Hermione, that Molly and I will come and visit you as soon as we can."

The girl let a small sliver of a grin escape. "Thanks," she said, and ran up the stairs.

"Den of wolves," Molly repeated.

---

"Gromnett, you must help me ready the guest room. It has to be as comfortable as possible."

The house-elf curtsied. "As you wish, sir. Would Mr. Snape like the coverlet cleaned, also?"

"Yes. Please make sure it's as clean as possible. Our guest is a special person. She deserves only the best."

Gromnett bowed low. "As you wish."

Severus was not sure when the Headmaster would appear with Hermione, and he knew that everything had to be perfect. He had requested that Dumbledore not disclose where the safe house would be, knowing that Hermione might not want to stay with him for weeks at a time, especially after all that happened.

The room was musty. Severus opened all the windows and began the arduous task of making the room comfortable. He conjured a spray of white jasmine, placed it in a faded porcelain vase, and situated it next to the bed in the guest room. Although the manor had deteriorated over the years, the largest guest room always stayed opulent. It was the part of the house that Etienne entertained her many male friends. Towards the end of Etienne's life, she began to cannibalise everything, including the guest room. Now it was furnished in a hodgepodge of styles: a Napoleonic style bed with brocade canopy, Queen Anne cherry armoire, French Provencal bed tables (with a dreadful marble top), Art Nouveau wall sconces, a secretary with the appearance of a Stickley. Severus was embarrassed. It had been years since anyone other than Lucius Malfoy or one of his Hogwarts coworkers had come to his home. Nothing could be done about it.

Gromnett returned with the discoloured bedding and linens and spread them over the mattress. After a quick fluff of the pillows and a few tucks, the bed was ready. Severus fastened the windows and conjured a few more large bouquets of jasmine, placing them around the room. The devoted house-elf closed the door and began to work on mulling cider for the guests that would arrive at any moment.

Severus retreated to the library and looked for a few books that Hermione would take pleasure in. He leaned against the shelves. The cool leather bound volumes felt good next to his skin. He found Hogwarts, A History and knew that his houseguest would enjoy it. His houseguest…he never thought he would say those words about Hermione Granger, but here he was, fretting about the cleanliness of his home, having Gromnett prepare the guest room, experiencing the faint sensation of butterflies in his stomach for his houseguest.

"I hate this!" he yelled. The words bounced off the panelled walls and assaulted him. "I feel like a bloody daft teenager!" Severus threw Hogwarts, A History toward a lamp, but it fell short. Gromnett came scurrying into the library.

"Mr. Snape, do you require my services?" he squeaked.

Severus brushed the hair away from his face. "No, Gromnett, I just lost my temper for a moment."

The servant picked up the book and handed back to Severus. "Mr. Snape needs to be more careful, if I may say so, sir."

Severus smiled and patted his servant on the head. "Wise old house-elf. Thank you, Gromnett. You may take your leave now."

Gromnett curtsied low. He returned to the kitchen to stir the mulled cider for the coming guests. Severus returned to the sitting room, book in hand, waiting for Dumbledore and Hermione to arrive.

---

Hermione gathered her parcel close to her bosom. Ginny had given her a light shawl, "in case you get cold wherever you're going." Molly and Arthur hugged through tears, and Hermione promised an owl every week.

Professor Dumbledore took hold of her hand. "Are you ready, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stared at Dumbledore with dull eyes. "I suppose now's the time."

Dumbledore squeezed her hand tightly and took hold of the Portkey, a miniature snuffbox. Hermione felt time and space began to swirl around her. Her stomach lurched and she felt as though she was being turned inside out.

Just as suddenly as it began, the two travellers dropped in the middle of a large room. Hermione leapt to her feet and smoothed her clothing. She pulled her hair back and began to take an inventory of the space around her. Gorgeous Roman deities, carved from marble, flanked the doorway. A gilded mirror, large but missing most of its glass, graced the wall. The chairs were meticulously carved rosewood covered with sumptuous black leather; but they seemed somewhat tattered, as if they had seen a lot of wear. A few large tapestries and a small Dutch Master still life graced the walls, along with a large bookcase filled with dusty Victorian era Muggle literature. Hermione could see that there were no family photos, as if the person didn't want to acknowledge their ancestors.

The room was pleasing, but Hermione could tell that it was magnificent in the past. She wondered what might have happened to cause a once grand manor to fall into disrepair. Despite the wear on the furniture and the lack of decoration, Hermione knew that the owner of the home must have a kind of refinement.

"Whoever lives here has incredible taste!" the young woman marvelled.

"Yes," Dumbledore whistled low under his breath. "He does have a eye for the finer things."

Hermione could hear the echo of footsteps down the hall along with the snap of billowing fabric. She walked towards the carved Roman gods. Something about them seemed vaguely familiar…the proud look, the strong jaw line, that aquiline nose…

"These are magnificent statues," Hermione said.

"Yes, they are," muttered Dumbledore, who seemed preoccupied.

"I've never seen better mythological sculptures."

The headmaster laughed heartily. "Oh no, those aren't gods!"

Suddenly, the room seemed strangely silent, and Hermione heard a detached, elegant voice.

"Those, Miss Granger, are but a few in a long line of Snapes."

Severus took pleasure in the look of shock on Hermione's face. "You honestly had no idea, did you, Miss Granger?"

She stumbled around for words. He answered his own question. "Miss Granger, I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else during your summer, perhaps in Romania?" Hermione's eyes grew wide. "No, I'm not using Occlumency. I remember when I was your age. Spending the summer with my teacher would have been the last thing I would have wanted to do."

"May I ask why I'm here, then?" Hermione queried.

"Simple. In fact, you know the reason. Don't be foolish, Granger."

"I really don't understand…"

"Has being friends with Weasley altered you that completely?" scoffed Severus. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Think, Granger. What just happened to you?"

"My mother has died."

"Yes. Your mother has died and no one knows exactly why. You might be in danger. You need someone who has faced Voldemort before, and Dumbledore can't shelter you. That leaves me. I can protect you, Miss Granger. You know I can. You know I've done it before." Hermione flushed. Severus continued, "Is there any reason that you don't want to be under my protection? Are you afraid of me?"

Dumbledore wisely interrupted the interrogation. "She's exhausted, Severus. Let her sleep here, at least for tonight, and we can see if this is the right thing to do in the morning."

Hermione yawned. Sleep sounded very good to her. Snape called for someone named Gromnett. A knobby-kneed house-elf dressed in a long flannel nightgown appeared and clasped her hand. "Oh! You must be our visitor! Mr. Snape has told me to take the greatest of care with you. Come now, I will show you to your room, miss."

Hermione yawned again and followed the house-elf towards the east wing of the villa.

Dumbledore took a swig of his mug of mulled cider. "You must tell Gromnett to give me the recipe for this cider. It's delicious."

Severus said nothing. He ran his hands through his hair and stared down the hallway towards Hermione's room. Dumbledore watched him with curiosity.

"The greatest of care, aye? Is there something I should know?"

Severus sipped his cider. "Have you spoken to Minerva?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't like to hear idle gossip, even if it's from someone I trust as much as Minerva McGonagall. I would much rather hear it from you that you are in love with Hermione Granger."

"It's not love, per se," Severus muttered. "It's some other sort of insignificant emotion."

"If you insist," Dumbledore said glibly. He swallowed the last dregs of his beverage. "Do I have your word that she will be safe here?"

"Upon my life," Severus replied.

"Then that's all I need," Dumbledore said. He Apparated, leaving Severus alone in the room.

---

Hermione rose at dawn, the light beaming through her window her wake-up-call. She opened the curtains and took stock of her surroundings. Once upon a time, this was a fine room. She noticed that every table in the room had a bunch of fresh flowers on them. They smelled wonderful.

She wanted to introduce herself properly to the house-elf, whose name she could not recall. She rummaged through her bag, found her robe, and put it on. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. Her hair was sticking up. She yawned. "I look splendid," she muttered.

As soon as she opened the heavy door, she found the tiny house-elf standing there. He wore the best uniform of any house-elf she had ever seen – a small pair of black tweed trousers (obviously well worn, for Hermione counted at least five patches on them), a white shirt, and a silvery-green silk vest. He looked like he could be the mascot for Slytherin House. The elf stooped low and then stood to attention.

"Miss! Good morning, miss! Would you like breakfast today?"

Hermione frowned. "I'm afraid I never made your acquaintance. I'm Hermione Granger," she stuck her hand out, "and you are?"

"Oh, miss, I am Gromnett, loyal servant of the Snape family. Would you like breakfast?"

"I don't eat food prepared by slave labour if I can help it."

"Oh no! No, miss, I am not a slave. Mr. Snape set Gromnett free many years ago, but I choose to serve. A kinder sir one cannot find, miss." Gromnett wiped his ever-reddening nose with a small handkerchief.

"Snape? Kind?" Hermione was still so tired that she didn't quite understand the house-elf.

"Certainly, miss. Gromnett remembers Mr. Snape – Mr. Snape's father. Merciless man. Very cruel. Mr. Snape's father used to whip me with a switch from a green willow tree when I erred. Mistress Snape was even worse." Gromnett lifted the left leg of his pants, where Hermione found, to her horror, a hole in his leg.

"Gromnett! Who did that to you?"

"Mistress Snape, many years ago. I tried to stop her from…" The house-elf looked around and then slapped his own hand. "Bad Gromnett."

"No, Gromnett, please tell me what happened? Did Snape do this to you?"

"No! Not sir. His parents. Please, please, miss, allow me to make you breakfast. I don't want to tell you any more."

Hermione wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Gromnett, are you happy here?"

"I could never betray Mr. Snape. He needs me."

"Are you happy?"

Gromnett sighed. "I would be happier if sir was happier. That is truly all I can say. Now, please excuse me, I have breakfast to make."

Hermione watched as the old elf walked toward the kitchens. She marvelled at human cruelty. She wondered why, after all that the Snape family had put Gromnett through, why he would continue to serve them, and who the Mistress Snape was who put the hole in the elf's leg?

Hermione walked towards the kitchen, where she found Gromnett stirring breakfast in a large copper bowl. "Gromnett, may I ask a question?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He stirred the kettle clockwise.

"I've met a few house elves in my time, but none are dressed as well as you, and none speak as well as you do."

Gromnett smiled. His large, squashy nose glowed. "Oh, miss, I am so proud that you consider me a learned house-elf! Mr. Snape told me that if I wanted to go anywhere in life, I must learn to speak properly. He's given me books to read."

"Who gave you the uniform?"

"Oh, miss, you ask so many questions! Mr. Snape gave me these. These are his old play togs, when he was a child. I altered them to fit me. Mr. Snape has paid so many kindnesses upon me."

"What are you cooking?"

The house-elf laughed. "What a little miss! Would you like some? It is sir's favourite dish."

"Porridge?"

"No, miss, lemon custard."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "I never thought of Snape as liking lemon custard."

"You'd be surprised at what I enjoy, Granger."

The sudden appearance startled Hermione. "Professor Snape, erm…good morning."

"What's the matter? Don't you like lemon custard? Would you rather have a poached egg? Gromnett is excellent with his egg dishes." Severus took a large earthenware bowl and filled it with strawberries.

"I think I will try some custard. You wouldn't have any wheat germ, would you?"

Gromnett scratched his head. "Wheat germs? No, no, miss, I clean the kitchen thoroughly every time I use it. I have no wheat germs."

Hermione chuckled, "No, it's a type of food, Gromnett. Wheat germ. It's like granola."

Severus poured a ladleful of the custard on top of the berries. "I have some cracked bulgur, but nothing else like that. Is that acceptable?"

The pair ate breakfast in silence. Gromnett returned to tidy up, and smiled at the amiable guest. "Miss," he said warmly, "if you would like, we can take a tour of the grounds today, if it's all right with Mr. Snape."

"Excellent idea. In fact, I will take her myself, and you can show her the herb gardens." Severus ate his last spoonful of berries, licking his lips in satisfaction.


	13. Better of the Two

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

Chapter 12– Better of the Two

Hermione had changed into a pair of khaki trousers and a thin sweater. She pulled her hair back with a ribbon. Staring at herself in the mirror, she realized that she looked a lot older than she did only a few months ago. She rubbed at her eyes, subconsciously trying to sweep away the black circles underneath them.

Gromnett rapped politely on her door. "Miss, would you like to attend to the herb gardens now?"

Hermione answered that she would, and together they walked outside to the gardens. Gromnett took great interest in each and every plant.

"This is lemongrass. See how tall and spiky it is? And this is sweet basil. And over there is peppermint. I love peppermint. Would you like some to chew on, miss?" he said as he cut a sprig off and tucked it in his cheek.

"No, I'm not really a fan of fresh mint," Hermione said. She looked around the garden, which was well taken care of despite the way the rest of the grounds looked. She knelt to look at the lavender plants, which were quite fragrant. "Do you take care of all the garden spaces, Gromnett?"

"Oh no, miss. I only tend to the herbs, sometimes the lawn, but mostly the garden. I grow all the herbs I cook with. Mr. Snape prefers it that way. Are you sure you wouldn't like any mint?" he said as he walked by a large patch of spearmint.

"Who cares for the trees?"

"Mr. Snape does, miss. Sir is always surrounded by his trees."

Hermione took a deep breath. She liked this garden and its freshness, its earthliness. Gromnett had an eye for garden design, certainly, but she couldn't take her eyes off the trees. They were meticulously pruned and cared for.

At the edge of the garden, Hermione and Gromnett waited for Snape, who was casually strolling down a flagstone path. Hermione was surprised at the way he was dressed. He wore grey flannel pants and a fisherman's sweater, also in grey. It made him look less pale than the normal black clothing, but he still looked relatively sallow.

"Miss Granger, may I escort you to my arboretum?" Severus held his hand out to the girl.

Hermione blushed slightly. It seemed rather romantic; a walk in a garden with such a sophisticated man, then she realized that it was Professor Snape she was walking with. Her heart was still torn with the dichotomy of her feelings for him – love and fear, and the fear of loving him. She slowly approached him and slipped her arm into his. Together, the teacher and his former pupil began to walk down the path.

"Gromnett tells me that you take care of these trees yourself. They are beautiful," Hermione began.

"You like trees?"

"Yes, particularly this specimen. When they blaze, there is no better show of nature's beauty."

Severus looked at the girl admirably. "Yes, beauty."

Hermione turned toward him. She saw in his eyes a subtle longing, for what she wasn't sure. "Professor…"

"I have asked you once to please call me Severus. I will not ask again."

"Severus," the name felt alien to her tongue, "I would like to talk about what happened."

The professor looked as though a heavy weight had landed squarely on his shoulders. He took a deep breath and looked her directly in the eyes. "We've been over this already…"

Hermione interjected him. "I mean, what happened between us. In the dungeon. Don't you remember?"

_Don't you remember?_ He could scarcely forget. He took hold of her hand. "It was the attempt of a foolish old man to try and regain some virility, nothing more."

"You're not an old man, and you're certainly not foolish."

"Headstrong, tempestuous girl!" Severus growled. "You don't know what I am!"

"Then what are you?" Hermione bellowed. The force of her words shocked Severus. He dropped her hand and began to walk swiftly towards the house. Hermione followed close behind.

"I asked you a question."

"And I told you what I am, but it's not my problem if you want to deny it."

Hermione trotted up beside him and grabbed his elbow. "Deny? You're one to talk about denial…"

Severus interrupted her. "See this mark on my arm?" he rolled his sleeve up and showed her the Dark Mark, "This mark will always be with me. I cannot deny that. I cannot deny what I've done. I am not proud, but to reject it is to reject myself, and I cannot do that. Do I wish I had done things differently? Every day, but there is nothing I can do about it.

"Will there ever be a day where I don't wake up in the morning and feel the surge of pain rushing through my body, the memories of what I've seen, what I've experienced, what I've been a party to not coming to my mind? When will I finally be able to live a normal life without fear of being hunted down by vengeful people hell bent on destroying all those old Death Eaters? Never! I can never be safe, I can never be free, even if Voldemort dies, and not just because of this mark on my skin, but because of the mark on my soul!"

Hermione's hand softly touched the skin around the Dark Mark. Severus winced. With a finger on her chin, he brought her face up and looked into her eyes. It seemed to be a repeat of their encounter in the dungeon, completed when Hermione's eyes welled with tears, a few of them splashing from her eyelashes onto her nose. She sniffed. Severus caressed her face.

"Do you understand what I meant?" he said tenderly.

She wiped her face with a backhanded swipe. "Yes, but I don't understand what this has to do with me."

"This is no kind of life for you, Hermione."

"What would you prefer, Severus? That I return to an empty, lonely house with no one to care for me? At least you have Gromnett," she said petulantly.

Severus looked at the sullen girl. He understood what she was going through; still he knew what his convictions said. "You have Potter, you have young Weasley. You aren't alone."

"Why am I here, then?"

Severus shook his head, his hair swaying in front of his eyes. "We need to investigate your mother's death to see if it's related to Voldemort. If it is, you are in danger. Regardless, you need protection during this time in your life. The right type of protection."

Hermione's back stiffened. "And the Weasley family is not the right type of protection?"

"Silly child. That's not what I meant…"

"I know exactly what you meant! The Death Eater doesn't fall far from the tree. You probably think of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley like Lucius Malfoy does…"

"Don't you dare speak of Malfoy in this house!" Severus raged.

Hermione's eyes were wild, almost daring Severus to stop her. "I do whatever the hell I want! Malfoy! Malfoy! Malfoy!"

Before either one of them knew exactly what had happened, Severus delivered a stinging blow to her face. Neither one spoke a word, but it was understood that both were apologetic. Hermione choked back the tears and walked away, leaving a stunned Severus in the grove of trees.

---

Dinner was a subdued affair; Hermione ate her dinner in the kitchens with Gromnett while Severus took his meal in the dining room. Hermione picked at her confit of duck and played with the braised carrots on her plate.

"What's the matter, miss? Is my cooking not to your liking?" Gromnett asked.

"No, Gromnett, it's delicious. I'm just not particularly hungry right now."

Gromnett bit into a roasted potato. "Oh! Did miss and Mr. Snape have a row?" he inquired, small bits of potato flying across the table.

Hermione smiled. "You could say that."

The house-elf finished his potato and washed it down with a drink of water. He asked if Hermione was finished with her meal, then took both plates to the sink.

"If you'll excuse me, miss, I need to attend to Mr. Snape now."

"Wait, Gromnett…could you let Mr. Snape know that I would like to speak with him after our meal?" Hermione smiled politely. The house-elf nodded and shuffled into the other room.

She sat in the dim kitchen, wondering how she let the moment slip away from her. The mood had gone from good-natured to sour, and it was all her fault. If she wouldn't have taunted Severus, would he have slapped her? She doubted that he would. It was foolish of her, childish, really; a screaming tantrum would not endear her to her host.

What was it about Malfoy that angered Severus to that degree? Was it because of their childhood? She thought it was Harry's dad, James Potter, that Snape hated, which was why he hated Harry so much. The animosity had not lessened between the two, which was why her being at Snape's manor was all the more surprising. Hermione was Harry's friend, an extension of him, and thus being sheltered by Snape seemed curious.

The house-elf returned to the kitchen, carrying the remnants of Severus' dinner. It appeared that he, too, had lost his appetite. "Sir is expecting you in the study, miss," he said.

Hermione paused in front of the window. She could see her reflection in the pane. She smoothed her hair and wondered if she looked appropriate. Gromnett walked over to her and pulled on her pants leg.

"Miss…you look fine. In fact, I am sure Mr. Snape won't mind what you look like, miss."

Hermione smiled. Gromnett reminded her of Dobby, the house-elf friend of Harry's who had worked for the Malfoy family. She wondered if he and Dobby were acquaintances. She opened her mouth to ask Gromnett that question, but was interrupted by the house-elf.

"Oh, miss, hurry! Mr. Snape hates idleness!" Gromnett pushed her toward the door, his hands against the small of her back.

Severus sat in one of the shabby chairs that flanked the fireplace; his back was turned away from the door. He wondered what he would say to Hermione, and what she would say to him. He hadn't had an argument with a woman he was interested in since the early 1980's – times had changed, and so had he. He heard the heavy wooden door creak.

"Good evening, Hermione."

"Hello, S-s-Severus." She sounded vulnerable.

He rapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "My house-elf tells me you would like to speak with me. Go on," he said tersely.

"I wanted to apologize for…for what I did," Hermione rushed the words out, as if she were trying to get the conversation out of the way.

"I see."

"Would you consider forgiving me?"

Severus grimaced. Forgiveness was an alien concept to him, but he must try, for her sake. "Perhaps."

He could hear her sigh. "I deserve that. I'm sorry. I am a guest in your home, and I should abide by your rules."

Severus smiled slightly. Hermione melted all resistance away, as much as he hated to admit it. It was so very Gryffindor of her to do exactly what she was doing. "Hermione, let's not speak of this again. Please remember, in the future, that we do not speak of the Malfoys in this house. That is the only thing that's off limits to you."

Hermione moved closer toward his chair, her face flushed with embarrassment. He turned towards her and looked her in the eye. "This house is yours until such time that it's deemed safe for you to return to your own home, and I hope that Gromnett…and I…make you comfortable," he began.

"Thank you," she said, as she sat in the chair opposite him and began taking off her socks.

The two sat in reflective quiet as the fire crackled and popped, filling the room with a warmth that sank into their bones. Hermione sat cross-legged in the chair, reading an old book she had found in Severus' study. Severus, by contrast, sat staring into the fire. Gromnett came in with two mugs of steaming hot cider and bid his master farewell as he was retiring to bed. Severus broke the silence first.

"You are an only child."

Hermione looked up from the book, her eyes painted with the blue-black of exhaustion. "Yes. My parents never wanted any children. I was unplanned, but my father said I was a gift."

"They treated you well?"

"Of course. They are…were my parents. Everything they did was for my good. They loved me."

Severus ran his fingers through his hair. "When you were accepted to Hogwarts, how did they feel? Were they afraid?" He asked the question delicately.

"My mother was, for a while at least. My father was thrilled. 'Just think, Maris! A witch, in our home!' He thought it was novel. Mum warmed up to the idea when she realized that I wouldn't be sacrificing things in the backyard." Hermione stifled a laugh.

Severus blew on his cup of cider, took a few swallows. "What exactly happened to your father, if you don't mind?"

Hermione yawned and rubbed her temples lightly. "My dad accidentally electrocuted himself. He walked outside on the wet grass and stepped on a wire going to the garden lights. I watched him die."

Severus could hear her sigh, and instantly wished he had not asked that question. "Do you wish you had siblings?"

"I have Harry and Ron." Severus flinched upon hearing her answer. "They are the most devoted friends anyone could have. I would be lost without them."

He cleared his throat. "Yet they aren't your brothers."

They lapsed back into silence, punctuated by a few soft yawns. Severus looked towards Hermione's chair, watching her read while rubbing the sleep from her eyes. There had been many times when he sat in that very chair, reading, hungering knowledge more than rest, fighting the sleep would give him tangible nightmares. Hermione Granger was more like him than she knew, the better of the two, in his opinion.


	14. Domesticity

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: Please be so kind as to refer to chapter one.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just a reminder that, while this is categorized as a "romance", it's also categorized as "drama". Romance is a touchy subject, because I suppose that many readers want sweetness and light. Hate to break it to you, but this isn't it. This is more along the lines of a "gothic romance" – please refer to the sisters Bronte for more information. The story is not going to change, nor do I suspect the vast majority of you want it to. I will not compromise my understanding of these two very difficult, very opinionated and at times disturbing characters. I will reiterate my previous warning of discussions of murder, rape, adult language and other issues that touch on the darker side of the human experience. If this bothers you, please don't read any further. Thank you.

Chapter 13 – Domesticity

Hermione had learned a great many things in the month since she and Severus had fought. For example, she learned that Malfoy had been the one to take Severus in after his mother died, and that it was with Lucius' encouragement that Severus entered the service of the Dark Lord. She also learned that the magical tattoo had stung uncontrollably for months even before her mother's death, so Severus knew that Voldemort would soon be up to his old tricks.

Severus had apologized for striking her. It bothered her that he would have raised his hand to her, but she knew, also, whom she was dealing with. Severus Snape was not known to be kind or thoughtful. Indeed, he had made a career out of being a bully, elevating mental cruelty to an art form, and although she didn't have any hard proof, Hermione could imagine what he had done as a Death Eater. Still, she knew that after the slap, things had changed between them. He treated her respectfully, much better than a student, but distanced himself from her as often as possible. However, he had given her free reign, and after a brief conversation about why he didn't want to discuss Lucius Malfoy, they came to an understanding. All was forgiven and the slate was wiped clean between them.

Hermione's knitting skills were improving, for Gromnett now owned a pair of woollen slipper cosies and a purple sweater with a large black "G" on it. He asked for another pair of slippers for his friend Grisby, one of the Durmstrang house-elves.

"Grisby is the only elf more learned than me," Gromnett said. "He used to be the personal elf of Karkaroff, but he was relocated right before You-Know-Who came back. He'd love these slippers, miss. Thank you."

Hermione wondered if Severus would mind her knitting clothes for various house-elves, but she didn't quite care. To her, it was still the most deplorable form of slavery imaginable, and she wished that there were something she could do to stop it. She was, however, thankful that there were more house-elves who were happy about being free, but she noticed that all of them had been the elves of Dark wizards. She remembered something that Professor Dumbledore had said about how people treat their inferiors, and thought it was categorically true in the case of the Death Eaters.

Gromnett, as well as his master, had made Hermione very comfortable in their home, but she still missed being able to go where she pleased, as well as the Burrow. True to her word, she sent an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley every week. Ron and Harry also sent owls from their sojourn to Eastern Europe. She felt terrible that she could not let her best friends know where she was living and with whom, but she knew that they would cut their vacation short in order to "rescue" her from "the clutches of Snape."

Dotty old Errol appeared outside of window of the study, holding a large piece of parchment and another, smaller rolled piece. Hermione took both of the parcels and gave Errol the rest of the berry she was eating. He clicked his beak in appreciation and flew off towards a tall tree in the arbour, apparently exhausted from his journey. She opened the small rolled parchment first.

Hermione,  
Molly and I will be coming to visit you in a week. We have some information about your mother, as well as Ron and Harry. I thought you might be interested in the Muggle newspaper I've sent over, I don't know what type of news you get at Snape's house. Stay safe, and we'll see you soon.

Regards,  
Arthur Weasley

She opened the larger package and found The London Times. Hermione smiled at the thoughtfulness of Mr. Weasley. She missed reading about the Muggle world and what was happening with it. Instantly turning to the entertainment pages, she caught up on some outrageous escapade that Geri Halliwell had done on Portobello Road. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Muggles had it so easy. There was nothing quite as dangerous out in that world as was in the Wizarding one.

Severus entered the room, dressed in a comfortable pair of black chinos and a thin green sweater. His hair was pulled away from his face. He crouched down next to Hermione's chair, peering over her shoulder at the newspaper.

"What's a Posh and Becks?" he asked impishly.

"Two Muggles – one of them was a famous singer, the other is a soccer player." When Severus shot her a puzzled look, she quickly explained, "It's sort of like Quidditch without the brooms."

Severus frowned. "They both look bloody ridiculous to me."

"Posh and Becks are nothing. You should see what the American celebrities are like." Hermione turned the page to show Severus a quarter-panel picture of a drunken Tara Reid vomiting on the sidewalk outside of a Chelsea eatery.

Severus smiled a bit. "You see why I no longer receive Muggle newspapers. I haven't been in touch with anything Muggle since the end of my more rebellious streak." He walked over to a rolltop desk and opened the bottom drawer, where he extracted a cracked leather-bound photo album. He handed it to Hermione. "I think I still have a bit of that defiant element in me. Take a look."

Hermione opened the journal carefully. Inside, she found not the enchanted photographs of the Wizarding world, but yellowed clippings and ticket stubs from Muggle establishments. She looked through each page with wonder, in awe at the hidden side of Severus. Hermione pointed to an aged picture of him, dressed in ripped jeans, white t-shirt and a black leather jacket, standing next to pierced men with Mohawks. "When was this picture taken?"

"Sixth year; my mother had just died and I was spreading my wings. I fit in just fine with my long hair and pale complexion. I got hit in the head during a concert and some punk broke my nose, which made it even more crooked than it already was."

"Who took it?"

"I associated with a group of Muggles in those days. It didn't endear me to my surrogate family, but at the time I didn't care."

"I thought you hated Muggles."

"There was once a time in my life that I hated everything, Hermione. Being a pure-blooded wizard didn't help me at all, after all I had heard about Muggles and Mudbloods…" he heard a sharp intake of breath from Hermione, "I mean, those who aren't pure-blooded…regardless, I wanted to rebel against everything. Xavier's – that's the boy there with the blue hair – his sister and I were both in the same herbology class, and I approached her, wanted to know more about Muggle life. She told me that during the next Hogsmeade trip, her family and her Squib brother would be there. That's how we met. During holidays, I would go home with Lucretia and then Xavier and I would go to different nightclubs with his friends. They knew me as Severn – Severus is too much of a giveaway that I didn't belong in their world."

Hermione sighed wistfully. "That's a lot more exciting than my life."

"Oh, but you are best friends with the Boy Who Lived," Severus sneered. "You can't tell me that you haven't had many wonderful adventures."

"It's different, though…you weren't constantly in danger when you were a teenager."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again.

"So, what happened to Severn Snape?"

Snape took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. It was obvious to Hermione that he didn't want to talk about his Muggle rebellion. "He grew up."

"He grew up? Or did he just grow old?" Hermione looked closely at the photos in the book. "When was this one taken?"

Severus looked over her shoulder. She was looking at an enchanted photograph of Severus and someone who looked a lot like Goyle, the Slytherin oaf in her year. The duo were slouching and frowning, the wind blowing through Severus' hair, both wearing black robes. Lucius Malfoy stood behind Severus, his hand on Snape's shoulder.

"Graduation day."

"You look a lot different."

"I was a lot different. It was at that moment of time that I began my metamorphosis to Death Eater." Severus held his arm, as if he was in pain.

"May I ask…"

Severus grabbed the book from her hands and shut it quickly. "No. That's enough of that, Hermione. You'll go tattling to Potter and Weasley in the next owl you send."

She glared at him. "I can't believe you think I'd tell Harry and Ron about something private like that. Don't you trust me?" Her voice broke.

"I don't trust anyone, Hermione. It has served me well over the years." Severus walked out of the room, leaving a stunned Hermione behind him.

---

Gromnett had risen with the sun, full of frenetic energy. His friend Grisby, the Durmstrang elf, was going to visit him. By the time Severus and Hermione rose, the entire house was glistening. On the stove was a spinach and tomato strata and freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. Hermione took a spoonful of the egg dish and sat at the table, lazily munching on the breakfast. Her hair was sticking straight up; she had long since given up on looking attractive. She was searching for the pepper grinder when she noticed Gromnett enter the room, smartly dressed in the purple sweater she had knitted for him and his usual black pants.

"Good morning, miss. Today is very special! You should dress soon!"

Hermione finished her breakfast and placed the dishes in the sink. "Grisby is coming, right?"

"Yes, miss! Look what Gromnett is wearing! The sweater!" He was beaming.

Hermione patted the house-elf on the head. "You look great. I'll get dressed and we'll wait for Grisby together, okay?"

The house-elf nodded and ran to his room. Hermione turned toward her own room, thinking how nice it would be to have visitors of her own. The Weasleys were supposed to visit every week, but duties with the Order of the Phoenix made it impossible for Arthur to hold to that promise, and Molly would not come to Snape's home by herself. Hermione missed her friends dearly. By now, she was supposed to have gone to the Burrow and started preparing for her entry into higher education. Instead, she was in exile, with her best friends in another country. She felt as though she would rot away in Snape Manor.

She decided that she would wear the robes she bought when she thought she would be going through Auror training. They were black sateen cotton with a piping of red around the neck and wrists. She looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. Her hair was a mess; even she could see that it looked ridiculous. She rummaged through her belongings and found a jar of smoothing cream, which she applied liberally to her roots. A few hard tugs on her tresses with a brush and the frizz was mostly gone. She twisted her hair into a loose chignon. Hermione looked at herself again. What little frizz was left in her hair gave her the look of an old-fashioned heroine.

"I don't look half bad," she said to herself.

Hermione made her way to the study, where she found Gromnett nervously pacing in front of the fireplace. He looked up, his eyes wide in appreciation.

"Oh, miss, you look beautiful! Grisby will be so very pleased."

Hermione blushed. "Gromnett! Sweet old house-elf, thank you."

"You should wear your hair like that more often, Miss Granger. It makes you look…almost approachable." Severus was dressed in his usual garb, but seemed less pale than usual. Hermione noticed a slight colour creeping up his neck. "Your robes are… why didn't you wear these robes more often?"

"I bought these when I thought I was going to work for the Ministry."

Severus' eyes flashed with a hint of jealousy. "Everyone has a dream deferred, Hermione. It's not a tragedy."

"I understand, Severus, but I don't know what to do with my life. Maybe I should look into going to a Muggle University, getting out of the Wizarding world for a while."

"You would enjoy it, but you'd miss the spells, the wonder of the Wizarding world after a while. Trust me, Hermione. You might be of Muggle origins, but you are a witch."

"Perhaps, then, I could go into teaching. I could still feed my academic interests." Hermione said.

Severus put his hand on her shoulder. "Indeed. Tell me, Hermione, what would you teach?"

Hermione smiled. "There are so many things that interest me, Severus. Transfiguration, Charms, Potions…"

"Potions. You're much too bright to spend the rest of your life hidden behind a foggy cauldron," Severus smirked. _And too beautiful_, he thought.

"It's positively fascinating …witchcraft without the wand. I think it's the most scientific of all the Wizarding Arts."

Severus frowned. "Scientific, yes, but it's also exacting, unbending, and there are so many limitations, unlike Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. You still want to teach that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. Who wants to be stuck behind a simmering kettle of foul smelling ingredients, teaching children who don't want to learn? At least with the Dark Arts, you can find something to interest them."

"Why do you teach," Hermione blurted, "if you hate it so much?"

Severus looked at her with surprise. "I don't hate it."

"You seem like you do."

"Don't automatically assume you know everything, Hermione. That's one flaw you haven't grown out of."

"I was just curious, Severus. You have always been so mean to the students, and especially to Gryffindors."

"Do you expect me to greet all Gryffindors with boxes of candy? I'm head of Slytherin House! Besides, Hermione, students are not necessarily nice to me. I know what they say about me behind my back. I'm not stupid."

Hermione blushed. "I know you're not stupid…"

"Great greasy git, vampire, slimeball, horse's ass, son of a bitch, bastard…" Severus punctuated each insult. "I believe that's from Ron Weasley alone. I've never heard 'Professor Snape is my favourite teacher' or 'I've learned so much because of Snape's classes'. Not that I ever dreamed I would."

"Maybe if you were nicer to the students…"

"No, I'm just being who I am. Everything's not all roses and Chocolate Frogs, Miss Granger," he sighed. "I'm not Albus Dumbledore, the good, kind and gracious. I'm just Severus Snape, last of a long line of powerful pureblooded wizards, former Death Eater and current spy. I'm bitter, cruel, and at times insufferable. I'm not a nice person."

"You can be, when you want to be, Severus." Hermione placed her hand in his.

Severus caressed her fingers. "No, Weasley is right. I am a son of a bitch."

Hermione smiled. "I never thought I'd hear you say the words _Weasley is right_."

"Nor did I." His voice was husky.

Hermione lifted her hand to Severus' face, softly running her finger down his jawline and across his lips. Severus parted his lips slightly and drew her finger in, gently licking the tip. Hermione shuddered, drew closer to him, and put her other arm around his torso.

"Hermione, I don't believe this is proper."

"To hell with what's proper."

Suddenly, a feminine scream punctuated the air, and Hermione let go of Severus.


	15. A Brief Visit

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: Be ever so kind as to refer to the beginning of the story.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Forgive this brief chapter! I have most of the story finished and written, but I have to polish them to a shine, so to speak, and they won't be finished for a few weeks. I hope this will do in the meantime.

Chapter 14 – A Brief Visit

Standing next to the fireplace was Molly Weasley, shaking and white with terror. Her eyes were wide and she was pointing toward Hermione and Severus. "I knew it! I knew it!" she shrieked.

Behind her appeared Arthur, dusting the soot off his robes. "Knew what, Mols?"

Molly stuttered violently. "He's – he's c-c-c-compromising her!"

"Nonsense! They are standing there, Molly. Just standing there." Arthur strode across the room and took Severus' hand. He shook it vigorously.

"Hermione, I want to talk to you." Molly rushed out of the room toward the hallway. Hermione followed her.

"Young lady, I want to know what is happening! Right…this…instant!" Molly's face was red with fury.

"You came in at an awkward time, Mrs. Weasley. We were," Hermione paused to think of a believable scenario, "…practicing a play."

"A play? Do you expect me to believe that…that… Who would you be putting on a play for? The next Death Eater soiree?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm going mad here, Mrs. Weasley. Severus is nice enough to help entertain me."

Molly gave her a disapproving look. "So, now he's Severus."

"Mrs. Weasley, I can't keep calling him Professor Snape. I live here, you know."

"I know! And I can't stand it! He's a Death Eater. DEATH EATER."

"_Former _Death Eater."

While Molly berated Hermione in the hallway, Arthur had a quiet conversation with Snape in the parlour. His ears were a slight pink. He clasped his hand on Severus' shoulder and applied a slight pressure.

"I know what's happening."

Severus flushed. His dark eyes glittered with curiosity. "Indeed?"

"Indeed, Snape, you dirty bastard. I have to keep my cool because Molly won't take it well if she knows. I had hoped I was wrong, but I can't do anything about it now. If you hurt one little hair on her head, well…" Arthur smiled, but it was far from pleasant. "Molly and I consider her family. I really don't want to have to fill her father's shoes, but trust me, Snape, I will."

Arthur's cool and quiet demeanour surprised Severus. He had known Mr. Weasley for many years, as a parent of the many red headed children that ran amok at Hogwarts, and as an effective operative for the Order of the Phoenix. Severus always thought that Molly was the Weasley with the heated disposition. He had never seen Arthur so determined…so deadly serious.

"I swear, Arthur, I would never harm Miss Granger. I swear upon my life."

"Your life isn't worth much."

Severus hung his head. "This I know. However, I have pledged to protect her, and I will do that. You must believe that I would never hurt her."

Arthur let go of Snape's shoulder and smoothed his robes, causing a bit of soot to fly into the air. "You're goddamned right you'll never hurt her, Snape. I'm warning you. You think my son Ron has a temper? You know nothing of mine."

Hermione, followed closely by Molly, entered the room. She consciously stood as far away from Severus as possible. Arthur smiled again, this time warmly, and crossed the room to where she stood. "Hermione, love! I'm quite happy you're safe. Having a good time?" Arthur said as he hugged her.

---

The Weasleys sat in the parlour with Hermione, talking about the rumours swirling around the Wizarding world, letters from Ron and Harry, and Ginny's last year at Hogwarts.

"Ginny has been named Head Girl," Molly cooed. "I'm terribly proud of her."

"As well you should be, Mrs. Weasley."

Arthur beamed. "That makes three Head of Houses in the family. I cannot tell you how I brag at the office."

Hermione giggled. "I'm sure Percy loves that."

"Percy's changed in the last year, Hermione. He keeps to himself a lot. I keep telling him to come back home, but he says he prefers London." Molly sniffed.

Hermione sat silently, mulling over what Molly had said about Percy. It seemed that Arthur and Percy were still at odds with one another since Percy abandoned the family to serve the Ministry. She wondered if that chasm would ever be breeched, and wondered if she, too, would one day face the Weasley patriarch's wrath.

Arthur, meanwhile, smiled graciously at Hermione. "How are you holding up?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, Hermione, emotionally. How are you?"

"Fine, I suppose. As well as I can be."

Molly held back a sniffle. "I wish we could take you back home with us, Hermione."

"Professor Snape is taking very good care of me. I'm safe here, and I think I need to feel safe for a while."

Arthur nodded. "We're still investigating your mother. We had information that a few Death Eaters were seen in the vicinity of St. Theresa's Home; among them, Draco Malfoy."

Hermione blanched a little. "_Draco_ Malfoy? I thought he was in exile."

"We've had information that he's back on our shores, and that he's joined the ranks of Death Eater. Of course, they haven't met for a while. You Know Who is keeping a low profile." Arthur stared behind Hermione's chair, looking for Snape.

"Well, do you think that V- er, You Know Who still had something to do with my mother?"

Molly shook her head. "We don't know, love. Arthur's doing as best he can. They've sent Tonks on a mission to Northern Ireland to check out a coven of dark witches that might be there. She's deeply undercover, so we probably won't hear from her in a while."

For the first time in a long time, she was glad that she wasn't with the Weasleys. Severus had been correct. She needed his care much more than she could have realized. "But what..."

"Hermione, trust me. Trust the Order. We know what we're doing, even if the Ministry doesn't."

Molly clucked her tongue loudly. "Now, now, Arthur. Let's not come in here and distress Hermione more than she already is. I'm sure that she'd like to talk about something else other than the Order's business."

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I'd like to know what's going on, especially where it concerns me." She couldn't help but notice a soft chuckle coming from the kitchen area.

Molly clucked her tongue again, this time in a condescending manner. "It's your decision, love."

Arthur looked around. "Where's the kitchen around here?"

Hermione rose to her feet. "Usually, Gromnett would come as soon as you said 'kitchen' but he has company."

"Gromnett?"

"He's the house-elf."

Molly turned up her nose. "I guess it's nice to have a house-elf."

Hermione shook her head. "Gromnett might be an elf, but he's autonomous. Sev…Professor Snape has given him his freedom. Gromnett chooses to stay on."

"He's probably scared out of his mind." Molly snarked.

"No, I reckon Snape is quite nice to his elf. I mean, look what happened to Kretcher and Sirius Black." Arthur pointed out.

"He's been kind to the elf for years, before Kretcher betrayed Sirius." Hermione said.

The patter of small feet could be heard outside of the room, and a flash of purple sweater streaked by the door. "Miss, might we come in for a moment?"

"Of course, Gromnett!"

Gromnett took the hand of his friend, the house-elf Grisby. Grisby was even shorter than Gromnett, if that was possible. He wore a black and silver Durmstrang tea towel and the red cosies that Hermione had knitted for his feet. Grisby bowed deeply.

"Miss…I have heard of your greatness. I…I only wanted to see for meself. I wanted to thank you for the cosies for me feet."

Hermione held her hand out. "Grisby, it is so nice to meet you."

"Oh no, Miss! Oh no, no no. I cannot take your hand. Your kindness is too much." Grisby bowed even deeper.

Gromnett took Hermione's hand. "Miss, you are much like your friend, Harry Potter."

Grisby wiped a great tear from his large, watery eyes. "Harry Potter, kind boy."

"Gromnett, did you say? It's nice to meet you." Molly said kindly.

"Good afternoon, madam." Gromnett bowed low. "And to you, sir. Now, if you will excuse me…" the two house-elves left the room.

Hermione walked toward the kitchen. "Would you like something to drink? I'm sure that Gromnett has made some cider, if you'd like."

Molly stood and summoned her travelling cloak. "No, Hermione, we need to go. I get the creeps when I come to this place."

"It's not so bad, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly gave Hermione a light hug, followed by Arthur, who gave her a kiss. "Hermione, love, you need to promise Mols and me that you will owl us if you ever need us. Ever," he repeated, then the Weasleys left.

Hermione stretched, yawned, and sat back into the comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace. "They're gone."

Severus returned to the parlour and sat in the opposite chair. He kept his gaze low and did not look Hermione in the eye. "I can only imagine what Molly said to you."

"I don't give a damn what she said to me," Hermione snapped. "Only I can make decisions for myself. Mrs. Weasley is not my mother and she never will be."

"The Weasleys have a point, Hermione." Severus said quietly. He raised his head toward her, and she could see that there was something in his eyes, something that looked remarkably like tears. "I keep telling you that I have nothing to offer you, but you just won't leave me alone. Don't you understand, Hermione? I'm a ruined man. There will never be redemption for me."

She opened her mouth, but Severus placed his finger on her lips. "Shhh. You can't argue what you don't understand. You could never understand. Let me just…just enjoy your company as long as I can." He turned away from her and stared into the fire.

Hermione sat for a long time, staring at Severus, who in turn kept his eyes on the leaping flames in the fireplace. She thought about what she could say to make him see that she wasn't interested in his past, that they could work past it, but she didn't know how. Finally, she reached across to his chair, placing her hand on his arm.

---

Night decended upon Voldemort. He wished that he would have curbed his anger and not killed Wormtail, for as useless as Wormtail had turned out to be, he could at least given him some company. Instead, Voldemort had only his trusted companion, the snake Nagini, and she, too, grew weak. Voldemort, however, grew stronger, and he knew that soon, vengeance would be his.

He could still rely on the services of Lucius Malfoy, though. He had proven himself to be an able, if not entirely predictable, servant. His fear was that his son, Draco, would become Voldemort's heir, leaving him powerless in the new Kingdom of Darkness that would soon descend upon the earth. The Dark Lord laughed to himself. Malfoy, along with his son, were too vain, too egotistical to see that he was just using them. They were important to him - at least their _money_ was important. The ends justified the means, wasn't that the old Muggle adage? The young Malfoy would do well to follow Voldemort's example. Here was a pureblooded prince amongst his Death Eaters. Draco was everything that Tom Riddle wasn't. That was why he had to be destroyed. Draco Malfoy threatened everything just by his mere existence.

But Voldemort would wait. Yes, it would be satisfying then. For now, he would send Draco to those dark wizards in Ireland. Surely they were his allies in this cleansing. Together, they could all become stronger in the purity of the blood, the purity of their race. He cackled a bit. Lucius Malfoy fell for the rhetoric. He was the perfect pawn. As long as he held Draco's life in his hands, Voldemort knew that the elder Malfoy would follow him blindly. By the time his plan would be completed, the Malfoy lineage would cease to be, and there would be no one to threaten the reign of Lord Voldemort.

"Nagini... my trusted friend, my mother, my nurturer... you see? Everything is going according to plan. We just have to wait."


	16. A Closed Mind

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter introduces some new words or phrases. The first is _Sabbat_. I found this word during my research about witchcraft over the ages. It's used most frequently in "Haxan", an early Scandinavian silent film about witchcraft. The term is used for large coven meetings. The pictures that Christianson, the director, used when describing the _sabbat_ instantly put me in the mind of Death Eater ceremonies. Secondly, _mens clausum_ is Latin for "a closed mind". Third, _aut vincere aut mori_ is Latin for "either conquer or die." Lastly, _apannisi la miei mente e cuore_ is Italian.

Chapter 15 – A Closed Mind

Severus had been up since before dawn, studying books for his return to Hogwarts. He sat in the study, wearing his nightclothes, muttering to himself. He knew that a sabbat would be soon, but he didn't know when. He dreaded the painful burn that he knew would come at any moment. The last purple rays of sunrise hit his desk, illuminating his weary face, causing the few stray flecks of grey in his hair to shine. A bowl of lemon custard sat untouched. He rubbed his temples and absentmindedly cracked his knuckles.

Hermione crept into the room, trying not to disturb him. "Miss Granger, good morning to you," Severus said faintly.

"Severus…isn't it early for research?" she yawned.

"No better time. The mind is sharpest during these times, Hermione. Would you like some lemon custard?"

"No. I would like to ask you a question, however."

He put his long roll of parchment down and looked at her. She had an expression of solemnity on her face that fascinated him. Severus knew that Hermione had been dreading whatever it was she was about to say. He steeled himself for the worst.

"I am dying here. I need something to do," she began.

"I understand. I'll have Gromnett pack your bag and you can return to the Weasleys."

"No!" Hermione cried. "That's not what I want."

Severus stared at her. "So, what do you want?" He crossed his arms and smiled.

"I'd like to resume our studies in Occlumency."

Snape laughed. "Indeed?"

"Yes! I need to do something. My brain is suffocating."

"Very well. We will start this evening after I've finished with my studies and we've had dinner. Agreed?"

Hermione smiled and ran out of the room. Severus shook his head and returned to his books. "I will never understand that girl," he chuckled.

--

Gromnett had retreated to his quarters for the evening. His visit with Grisby has drained him of his seemingly boundless energy. It was up to the wizards themselves to cook. Severus made poor quality spaghetti and meatballs. He and Hermione ate in silence in the kitchen. After the meal, Hermione walked into the drawing room and looked at the statues of Snape ancestors that she had previously thought were Roman gods. She stooped to see the inscription on one of them.

"_Audaces fortuna iuvat..._ fortune favors the bold," she said.

Hermione jumped when Severus put his hand on her shoulder. "Yes. That is my great-great grandfather. He was a very powerful man, apparently." He slowly walked to another figure. "This is my great-uncle Antonin Snape. You'll notice that he has nothing carved into his statue. It was because he was a blood traitor. He fell in love with a Muggle gentleman and left the Wizarding world for him. My grandfather murdered him. His lover, too. It's not easy to be involved with a Snape. There are... were... repercussions. Of course, I am the last of the line. It doesn't matter who I choose to spend my time with."

Hermione moved towards another statue, this one holding a coat of arms. "What's that on his shield?"

"It's the Snape family motto. _Aut vincere aut mori_."

"That's your family motto?" Hermione asked quietly.

Severus shook his head yes. "Needless to say, we don't do a lot of conquering."

"That's terrible."

"That's life, and you'll probably think this is terrible, also, but I have to say that I live my life by the code. Just in my own way."

Hermione took a deep breath. "What have you conquered?"

Severus turned away from her, pacing back and forth in the room, staring at the statues that he had fought so hard to keep in his possession. "I've conquered most of my fear, but not completely. I've conquered those who would have mistreated me in the past, because they are all dead, and I am alive. That's the sweetest sort of revenge."

"That's not revenge. That's survival," Hermione said forcefully.

"My very existence is revenge against those who have wronged me."

"How can you say that and believe it?"

He continued to pace, his step quickening. "Because it's true! I am a Snape. It is my duty to be the victor over all or die in the process. There is no in between!"

Hermione moved away from the statue of the Snape Arms bearer and moved toward a graceful one of a woman. She was beautiful. She had long hair, a swanlike neck, and a heart shaped face. "Who is this?" she asked.

"That is my grandmother. She had it made before she died. It was when she was a young woman. _Apannisi la miei mente e cuore._ Another life's lesson."

Hermione nodded. "And what lesson is that?"

Severus smiled grimly. He took her hand and stroked it lightly. "Cloud my mind and heart. I have to go prepare for our lessons. I'll be with you later on this evening, all right?"

--

At nightfall, Severus and Hermione stood together in the hallway as if they were duelling, both held their wands at the ready. Both had an unwavering look of resolve on their faces. Severus drew first. Hermione easily blocked him.

Snape smoothed his hair away from his eyes. "You've done well, Hermione. Now it is your turn."

She stood ready and calmly uttered, "Legilimens." Severus did not seem to try to stop her entry into his memories. She saw the elegant woman again, and Snape in period costume, but upon closer inspection, she saw that it wasn't Snape, but a man who looked like him. Both of them had bruises on their faces. A sudden flash of light and the memory changed to the woman sitting on a drunken man's lap, her clothing ripped, screaming at the young child that stood behind them in the doorway. The boy ran to a broom closet and hid in the dark. Another flash of light took Hermione to a Muggle street, black robes, porcelain masks, and a blue haired boy with blood on his face. Without warning, the memories stopped.

"What happened?"

Snape cleared his throat. "I've…you caught me off guard."

Hermione knew that Severus was lying, but why would he show her those memories purposely? "Shall we resume our studies?"

"Yes. In fact, I think you are ready for the next level."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "Next level? There's more?"

"Of course there is. Did you honestly think it was this simple, Hermione? Why do you think Britain isn't crawling with Legilimens? I didn't teach Potter this part because of his smart mouth, but I believe you are ready."

"Well…what is that next step?"

Severus brushed the hair back from his face and put his wand in his pocket. "To be an accomplished Legilimens, you need to be able to do three things. You have to be able to break into people's thoughts. You have to be able to stop those same people from seeing your own thoughts. The third step, the step that will put you in a master's league, is that you need to be able to deceive the more skilled Legilimens into seeing memories that don't actually exist."

"Won't they know it's a lie?"

"Not if you know the right way to do it," Snape said. "How do you think I've lasted this long with the Death Eaters?"

"I never thought about it," she lied.

"Of course you have," he said. "You can't fool a person who lies for a living, Hermione. You shouldn't try. Besides, your cheeks turn pink when you do."

Hermione smiled.

"The most important thing is to learn the incantations. There are three major incantations that you must learn in order to properly succeed. The easiest one is _Mens clausum_. Quite easy, actually."

"_Mens clumsam_" Hermione repeated.

"Not quite. Now, when you've learned the incantation, I will teach you the correct circumstances for using it. I think we're done for the evening." Severus smiled and turned on his heel, walking toward his bedroom.

"Why must you leave?" She moved closer toward him, put her hand on his chest, over his heart, and stood on her tiptoes. "Please stay."

Severus looked deep into her eyes. He saw the hunger there, the yearning for something he had never seen in her eyes before. He put his hand in her hair; the thick tumult of curls cascading over his fingers. "What have I done to deserve this?"

Hermione whimpered a little, leaning closer into his body. She lifted her head a little, then softly, slowly, covered his mouth with hers. They kissed deeply for a moment. The feeling was much more electric than when they had kissed in the dungeon. He put his arms around her and held her close to him. His heartbeat was erratic, alternating fast to slow. He could barely stand the feeling of her fluttering eyelashes on his cheeks or the welcoming, enchanting scent of gardenias on her skin.

Severus tried to break the kiss, tried to pull away, but Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. He had been celibate for almost thirteen years, and this sudden rush of hormones made him feel light-headed. Snape's hands ran the length of her body, relishing her soft curves. It had been so long, and she was so willing. With a trace of anxiety, his fingers found the buttons of her shirt and shakily began to loosen them. Her skin was so warm, _so warm_…

Hermione took hold of Severus' hand and placed it on top of her breast. He shuddered. She flicked her tongue against his and he shuddered again. He moaned softly_. It was too good to be true_, Snape thought, _that this wonderful girl would want me_. His body didn't seem to care. His arousal was evident, deepening his embarrassment.

Hermione seemed to struggle with words. "I….I…"

Abruptly, Severus broke away. He mashed his hands onto his eyes and fell to the floor. "No!" he bellowed. "No, not now!" He rolled around the floor in blinding pain. Hermione stood, struck with horror. She ran toward him.

"Stop! Hermione…please, leave me be," he breathed, holding the Dark Mark tightly.

"No…tell me what's happening!" she cried.

Severus squeezed a lone tear from his eye. He stood up, unsteady, and briskly ran to his room. When he returned, he was dressed in all black with a monstrous white porcelain death masque placed over his face.

She shook with fear. "V-Voldemort?"

"I…I have to go. He's calling me. I will return for you," he croaked, and then he was gone.


	17. The Sabbat

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

Chapter 16 – The Sabbat

Severus apparated in a dark wood, where the Death Eaters could meet with no interruptions. He looked around, but he couldn't find anyone. "Strange," he thought, "The Dark Mark was burning…"

He heard a rustle in the woods behind him. Severus turned, walked closer to the trees, then saw the ghostly glow of the white porcelain faces moving toward him.

"Brother…it is time. Let us commune with the Dark Lord." Severus recognized the voice as Macnair's. He walked into the small crowd of Voldemort's followers, then he saw the Dark Lord himself, standing in the middle of a circle of trees.

"Come, Death Eaters," Voldemort rasped. "The ceremony will begin shortly."

The strange group of followers circled the snake-like man, and all of them bowed on one knee, clasping their fist to their chest, then stood and gave a strange salute. One of the Death Eaters dared to speak first. "My Lord, how may we serve you?"

"Gagne, first, we must draw straws."

"Draw straws, sir?" Gagne asked.

"Yes. Let us leave it to chance to see who will assist me in regaining more power this evening." Voldemort smirked, then conjured up a handful of straws. Each Death Eater took one.

The men placed their straws together on the ground. Only one was shorter then the others – the straw belonging to the elder Goyle. Snape calmly stood close to Gagne and Macnair, fearing the horrible fate that Goyle would have to face.

Goyle walked closer to the Dark Lord and knelt before him. Voldemort clasped his hand and drew him closer to him. He tilted his head back, and gave him a kiss full on the lips. Goyle's body convulsed, then he fell to the ground like a rag doll. Voldemort stretched his limbs.

A diminutive Death Eater rushed to Goyle's side to administer a potion. Voldemort gazed down at him in slight appreciation. "Salisbury, bind Goyle to that tree. He will recover in time, but I must thank him for that tasty morsel of his life's essence." The Dark Lord laughed evilly.

Voldemort glanced at his minions, disguises all at their side as they watched Salisbury tie the weakened Goyle to the tree. Voldemort caught Snape's eye. He cocked his head to the right, and then pointed his finger toward him. "Snape…our secret agent. Tell me, Severus, what news have you?"

"None, my lord. I believe, however, that Potter may be hiding in Eastern Europe."

"Good…good. I must have Petrova investigate. Snape, put out your arm."

Severus winced. He knew what was going to happen. He bared his arm, the Dark Mark burning darkly in his skin. Voldemort smiled grimly, then touched the mark. Severus cried out. The Death Eaters all laughed.

"Silence!" the Dark Lord hissed. "Or you'll be next."

Voldemort continued touching the magical tattoo. "Yes…it's faded a bit. I wonder why. Have you been scrubbing it again?" He poked at the scar with each word, shooting pain through Severus' arm.

"My lord, I must bathe myself." A few Death Eaters sniggered at this remark.

"Must you, Severus? You know what I have to do," Voldemort said with sadistic glee. "Gagne, Macnair, Salisbury, Crabbe!" The four men leapt to attention. "You will hold Severus down."

Snape trembled with dread, but kept quiet. "My lord…"

"I need to remind you where your loyalties lie, Snape. Always remember that I am your master!" Voldemort said as he held a red-hot iron in his hand.

Severus' screams echoed through the night.

----

Hermione rose with a start. It had sounded like a tortured shriek. She looked around, called for Severus, but knew that he was nowhere to be found. She knew that he was at a Death Eater sabbat. The thought sent chills down her spine. What unspeakable acts would Severus have to submit to in order to continue his highly dangerous double agent act?

She thought about Harry and Ron. She hadn't heard from them in weeks. Where were they? Were they okay? Would she be able to see them soon? Hermione wondered if Harry never found the happiness he needed so desperately in his life, would he end up alone like Snape? Harry and Severus were so much alike. She marvelled that they could not figure that out. Both headstrong, brave, intelligent, and loyal. She thought about Ron. Sweet, wonderful Ron. She knew that they would never admit it, but there was nothing The Weasleys would want more than for Hermione to be Ron's bride. She loved Ron, she truly did, but not in that way. He would always be her anchor, but...

The tears began to fall upon her pillow. Would she hear him when he returned from the coven's meeting? Would he be hurt? Would he want someone there to help him? Her heart felt heavy. She knew without a doubt that despite the age difference, and the reaction she knew she would receive from those closest to her, Severus Snape was the man she loved. Knowing that he was somewhere in the ether having to live a horrendous lie killed her inside.

She stepped out of bed and slipped on a silk robe. She walked into the parlour, too scared to sleep, but too tired to do anything but wait. Hermione sniffed slightly and wiped the tears away. She curled up in Severus' leather chair and slowly drifted off to sleep, waiting for him to return to her.

Hermione wasn't sure how long she slept, but she heard the click of shoes on the marble floor in the hallway. She woke up and snuck down the hall. She heard Gromnett murmuring and Snape's heavy breathing. She stood breathlessly by the door, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Mr. Snape, sir, can I get some salve for you?"

Hermione heard Severus' raspy, weak voice. "Gromnett, please, just ice water."

The house-elf's voice quavered. "But sir, the burn…"

"My injury will not respond to salves, Gromnett. This burn won't go away. Remember a few years ago, how this arm tingled for weeks?" The house-elf nodded his head in the affirmative. "It will be like that again. I am thirsty, though. Just give me some ice water, please. " Severus groaned, then breathed a heavy sigh. "Oh, and Gromnett? Make sure Miss Granger is returned to her room."

The sun rose slowly in the east, the sky looking like an orange and purple velvet tapestry. The rays broke through the clouds and into Hermione's bedroom, illuminating the walls with a type of lush splendour. Hermione was too tired, and too nervous, to notice. Since Severus returned from the revelry, she had been unable to sleep. She heard faint whimpering echo down the hall from his room all night, and the scurry of Gromnett's feet ushering water and other, stronger substances. She splashed her face with water and wrapped her robe about her. Gromnett stood at the ready in the kitchen.

"Shhh, miss. Do be quiet. I've lulled Mr. Snape to sleep. He needs his rest," the old elf whispered.

"I shall be quiet, Gromnett. How is Mr. Snape?"

The house-elf twisted his ears in anguish. "I've never seen him in such pain, miss. Not since…Oh, bad Gromnett!"

"Not since when, Gromnett?" Hermione pressed. Gromnett nodded and sighed.

"You deserve to know. I am under no obligation to keep secrets," Gromnett started. "See this hole in Gromnett's leg?" Hermione shook her head yes, appalled at the horrific sight. "I got this by defending Mr. Snape as a young boy."

Hermione gasped. "Defending him from whom, Gromnett?"

The elf twisted his ears again, his great eyes watered. "Mrs. Snape. Oh, she was an evil miss. Always beating poor master, always bringing nasty men home for frolics, always calling Mr. Snape terrible names. One day, she had had too much firewhisky and she called for him. 'Severus! Severus, you worthless brat, come here! Mummy wants you!' she screamed. It was horrible. I'll never forget it.

"Master walked into the room and she attacked him! She beat him with her shoe. I heard him screaming for help and I ran into the room. Young master Snape was black and blue, his nose was bleeding, and he cried out for her to stop. The worst was yet to come. Mrs. Snape grabbed a hot iron from the fireplace, and she charged at him! I leapt in front of him. 'No one hurts Master Snape!' I yelled at her, but she lunged again, and I got this," he pointed to the hole in his leg.

Hermione choked back the tears. "Gromnett, you brave, good house-elf. You…you saved him."

"Yes, but both Mr. Snape and I were hurt badly for my bravery. If it weren't for the start of school in a week, she would have beaten him to death. Young master Snape used his knowledge of potions to heal me as best he could. He never forgot my sacrifice, and he set me free after his mother died."

"But…why did you stay? You could've gotten another job somewhere, at Hogwarts, at Durmstrang!" Hermione looked the house-elf straight in the eye.

"No. Mr. Snape needed someone to care for him. He was alone, and scared…"

"Snape, scared?" Hermione interrupted.

"Oh, yes, miss. Scared. Mr. Snape is afraid only of one thing, and that is the Dark Lord."

"Everyone is afraid of him, except for Dumbledore, of course."

"No, miss. The Dark Lord has a special power over Mr. Snape, and it frightens him. I don't know the rest, I am very sorry." Gromnett had fully twisted his ears and his squashy nose was beet red.

Hermione sat in the chair next to the kitchen counter and leaned onto her elbow. "I wish there was something I could do."

"There is, miss." Gromnett looked up at her with his large, expressive eyes as he put a kettle onto the stove and prepared a flight of tea for his master. Hermione took the tray in her hands and slowly walked down the hall toward Severus' room.

----

The thick, dark green curtains were drawn shut on the windows and also on the giant four-poster bed in the middle of the room. It smelled of eucalyptus leaves and menthol. Hermione held a dimly lit candle in one hand, the tray of tea in the other. The room was very quiet except for the even breathing of its inhabitant.

"Gromnett," Severus whispered, his voice husky, "is that you?"

Hermione opened the bed curtains slightly. "No, Severus, it's me. I've brought you some tea."

"Please leave it on the desk there." He took a ragged breath. "Miss Granger …perhaps you should consider packing your things and going to the Weasleys."

"You need someone to take care of you, and Gromnett can't do it all," the girl said firmly.

Snape coughed a little. "Now, now, Miss Granger. Being headstrong will lead to nowhere. You need to be put in the Weasley's very capable hands."

Hermione poured the tea for him and handed to him through the curtains. "Why can't I stay here?" she asked.

Severus took another deep breath. "You need protection, and one little house-elf won't do. While I'm away, this place is useless. Regardless, you would feel much better if you could see your friends, which you wouldn't be able to do here. Is that understood, Hermione?"

"Severus…"

"Miss Granger… is that understood?" He said in a stronger tone of voice.

Hermione bowed her head. She knew that he had made up his mind, and there was nothing she could do to change it. "I understand. When shall I leave?" She heard a slight cough.

"When I am able to escort you properly."

"Severus," she began, "I…I know about Gromnett's leg."

"Indeed? I assume you know the circumstances behind his injury?"

"Yes. I want you to know that…well…I am sorry." Hermione heard the rustling of his sheets.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. What's past is passed. It would serve you well to remember that some people don't like to drag up history. But…thank you for your consideration," Severus said uneasily.

"You didn't deserve it. No one deserves that."

Hermione tried to peek inside the curtains, but he carefully reached out and took hold of her hand, stopping her from moving the heavy bed drapes. "This is something you don't want to see. You can go now."

Hermione walked out of the room, and Severus pulled the bed drapes open just enough to peer out of them. His noble face was purple with bruises, and his left eye was swollen shut. The Dark Mark burned intensely. Severus stared at the door, thinking of Hermione's obvious concern for him. He knew that his feelings toward her were more than the ghost of a boyhood fancy; as he thought perhaps they were while he was still at Hogwarts. He truly loved her, and that was why he had to let her go.

"No one will ever hurt you, my dear girl. Least of all, me."

----

A week had passed. Severus stayed secluded in his room, the drapes pulled tight around the bed, speaking to Hermione only when she brought food into his room. No amount of magical healing would help the horrible condition of the injuries inflicted on him by the Death Eaters. The purplish-black of his bruises gradually faded to a sickening yellow, then eventually healed. He looked at himself in the mirror in his bathroom, examining his battered face, still tender to the touch. He poked at the swelling below his left eye and put an icepack on it.

He heard Hermione's sobs late at night, and he knew it was on his behalf. He also knew, although she never admitted it, that she missed Potter and Weasley more than she could say. It touched Severus to the core that anyone could have that type of relationship with someone. The companionship she knew with those boys was something he would never have, and it pained him. Hermione didn't need him as much as he needed her, but he had lived nearly forty years without love, and could live forty more.

He dressed in his most Spartan robes, hoping to fool himself into a stern mood. The more detached he felt, the easier it would be to give Hermione back to the Weasleys…the easier it would be for him to return to Hogwarts to face another year of idiotic students asking stupid questions and ruining simple potions.

"Worthless emotion," he growled to himself, but he didn't believe it.

-----

Hermione had been packed for days, knowing that as soon as she heard Severus' footsteps down the hall, it would be time for her to leave Snape Manor. She had grown to enjoy living there; despite the shabbiness of its interior, the house was beautiful. It would be so much different at the Burrow. She couldn't lie to herself and say that she wasn't looking forward to seeing the Weasleys again. They were such an important part of her life. It was like going home again.

She had gotten an owl from Mr. Weasley, informing her of Ron's sudden, nasty break up with Emma Dinwiddie. Apparently, Ginny had seen the Hufflepuff holding hands with a seventh year Ravenclaw named Brock Reddick, and had told Ron of her infidelity. Ron, in turn, sent a Howler to the school, and their relationship was over. Ron and Harry were at the Burrow, spending a few days with the Weasleys before they went their separate ways.

_So, Ron was single again_, Hermione thought to herself. _Maybe he'll want to ask me out._ She smiled. Once upon a time, maybe she would have taken him up on his offer. He had grown into a fine looking young man with broad shoulders and muscular legs. He had been asked by Quidditch World Cup officials to become part of their organization, which was a dream come true for Ron. Harry grew to be the spitting image of his father, James, with the exception of his mother's startling eyes. Harry spent a lot of time lifting weights, become stronger for his eventual final fight against Voldemort. His body was lean and toned. At the time being, he was going to be assisting Arthur Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Articles Department as a liason. Hermione smiled. Her friends were such handsome boys. She was stupid not to be interested in them, she thought.

And yet, she wasn't interested in them. Her awakening happened when she first tasted Severus' kiss. She knew that it was Severus, only Severus, that would spark that fire within her soul. It was hopeless. He had treated her coldly for the last few days, and now he was sending her away. Maybe he didn't feel the same way she did. Maybe he never did.

"Miss Granger, it is time to leave. Please make sure you have everything."

Hermione grabbed her duffle and walked into the parlour. They would be travelling by Floo Powder to the Burrow. She worried, for a moment, what Harry and Ron's reaction would be when she appeared with Snape by her side. She was also saddened that the seedling of a relationship between she and Severus had seemingly died. He had taken to calling her Miss Granger again, as if the ardent kisses they shared had never happened. Maybe it was best that she returned to the Weasleys.

Severus was dressed as he would if he were teaching potions. _Hello, Professor_, Hermione thought. _Goodbye, Severus_.

"You and I will leap into the fireplace together. I do not want to lose you during our transport," Severus said in his most aloof tone. He threw a handful of powder into the fireplace. The two walked into the green flames. "The Burrow," Severus said calmly.


	18. The Breaking Point

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

Chapter 17 – The Breaking Point

The Burrow, warm and happy, flashed into view, and Hermione saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea. Molly was the first to rise and greet her. "Hermione! Oh, come here, dear, I'm so glad you're back!"

Arthur stood slowly and nodded toward Severus. Darkness flashed in Arthur's eyes as he sized up Hermione's travelling companion. "Good afternoon, Snape."

"Arthur. Safe and sound, as I promised."

"Completely intact?" Arthur's eyes bore a hole into Severus.

"As promised," Severus said between clenched teeth.

Arthur smiled. "Good." He turned to Hermione, returning to mild-mannered Weasley patriarch. "Welcome back to the Burrow, love. Why don't you take your things up to Ginny's room?"

Hermione could hear the whoop of joyful voices in the other room. The clamour got louder and louder until standing in front of her were Harry and Ron. They had grown over the summer. Ron was now a lot bulkier and a full head taller than Harry. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be all muscle, yet lean. The boys bear-hugged her, and Ron picked her up and twirled her. Only when Harry looked past Hermione's shoulder did he see Severus standing near the fireplace.

"Professor Snape? What are you doing here?" Harry asked quizzically.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand. "Oh, Harry, Professor Snape was kind enough to escort me from the safe house."

Harry sneered. "Kind. Hmph. Anyway, Hermione, I bought some trinkets for you when we were in Hungary. Ron did, too. Come on!"

Harry and Ron dragged Hermione up the stairs to see the bounty they had bought for her, Molly following afterwards. Arthur sat back down at the table to finish his tea. Severus cleared his throat. "I suppose I should go back to my own home," he said, but Arthur interrupted him.

"Snape, I'll ask again," he questioned without looking at him. "You didn't take any liberties with Hermione?"

"No." Severus looked completely uncomfortable.

"Good. Now, let me ask another question," Arthur said in a hard voice. "Are you in love with her?"

"None of your business."

"I've made it my business, because no one else is going to. Are you in love with her?"

Severus gritted his teeth, his hand itching for his wand if Arthur were to retaliate for his answer. "Yes."

Arthur looked as though he was going to vomit. "Is she in love with you?"

Severus turned his back on Arthur and stared out the window. "She is in love with me. At least, she believes she is. However, I have not told her my feelings. I never will. It doesn't do to dwell on things of this nature. Now if you'll excuse me, Weasley, I am going home."

"You won't say goodbye to Hermione?" Arthur said chillingly. "You'll just leave her here without pleasantries?"

"I've said all I needed to say to her," Severus retorted, and then Apparated back to his home.

---

"Ron, you shouldn't have!"

Hermione was standing in front of a mirror in Ron's room, admiring a silver necklace with a carved purple amber pendant that he had put around her neck. Harry had purchased enamelled combs for her hair, but Ron's gift was extravagant. Ron smiled.

"Nothing's too good for our Hermione," Harry said as he gave her a kiss on the cheek. He left the room.

"I had bought this for Emma, but you know how that went," Ron said.

"You should have given this to Ginny or your mom," Hermione said, "not to me."

"Why not? You're my best girl, Hermione."

"Ron, how long have we known each other?"

"Er, seven years," Ron stammered. "We met on the train, remember?"

"I know we met on the train," Hermione said impatiently. "Listen, Ron. How long did it take for you to realize I was a girl?"

"Hermione, that's not fair. You've always been a girl."

"Fifth year. Fifth year, you started to realize that I am a girl and not just another one of the guys. What changed, Ron?"

Ron turned a deep shade of pink. "Well, er…Hermione, I just thought you'd like this necklace. It suits you."

Hermione took the necklace off and put it back into Ron's hand. "Ron, it's really very sweet of you, but I will never love you. No amount of pretty gifts will make me love you."

Ron looked as though he swallowed Pigwidegon. "I…I'm not trying to buy your affections. You're my friend…"

Hermione unfairly snapped at her friend. "Ron, you know it's unwise to flirt on the rebound!"

"I'm not flirting!"

"You've been after me for years, Ron, and now you think you can get me because we're older and you think I'm lonely! Well, it's not going to work, is it?" Hermione screamed.

"Fine!" Ron yelled, his temper flaring. "See if I try to give you something nice ever again! Screw you, you heartless bitch!" He slammed the door in Hermione's face. Harry heard the fight and dashed up the stairs. He saw Hermione's face, white with shock, and he ran to hug her. Hermione collapsed into tears.

"It's all right, Mione. You can tell me."

"Ron hates me, and I don't blame him!"

Harry smoothed her hair back and patted her head. "Oh, Hermione, he doesn't hate you."

"He called me a heartless bitch." She choked on the words.

"What did you say to him that he'd blow up like that?"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "I accused him of being on the rebound…buying my affections with that necklace."

"Ron bought that necklace for Emma, but then she cheated on him, and let's face it, purple would look really terrible on Ginny or his mom. He's going through a rough time right now, Hermione. He had his heart crushed. You just have to humour him."

"So he doesn't love me?"

"I didn't say that. He loves you, like I love you, but his crush on you ended a long time ago. Forgive him for being harsh, Hermione. Go in there and take the necklace back. We can't stay mad at each other forever, can we?"

Hermione smiled and hugged Harry tightly. "I suppose we can't. Come with me for moral support?"

---

She sat alone in the corner, watching Molly knit a scarf for Ginny. _Why did he just leave?_ She thought_. Couldn't he have at least said goodbye?_ She was terribly hurt.

Arthur stared at her like a hawk. He knew what she was thinking about, and it angered him even more than when he had found her standing with her arms around Severus' neck. He wished that he could have taken Hermione's place in that scene, then ever so slowly, suffocated the professor. How it would have brought him pleasure to see those dark eyes roll back in that greasy skull.

He roused himself back to reality. "Hermione, love, are you all right?"

"Yes," she replied listlessly. "I'm just thinking."

"You know what goes well with thinking? Knitting," Molly said. "What do you say you give it a try?"

"Not today, Mrs. Weasley. I think I'm going to see what the boys are up to." Hermione rose to her feet and walked up the stairs. She heard her two best friends muttering. The sound was coming from Ron's bedroom. She knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in!" she heard Harry say.

She cracked the door open and peeked inside. Ron and Harry were playing wizard's chess. Harry was wearing a pair of flannel pyjamas, and Ron was wearing only a pair of knit shorts. He was shirtless; the freckles on his back looked like a Pollock painting. Hermione marvelled at the way her friends had developed over the summer, but especially Ron. She never dreamed that the boy she grew up with would turn into such a strapping young man. "I was just wondering if you could entertain an old friend?"

"Of course, Mione. Anything for you," Ron said, as he threw a pillow at her and moved over a few inches for her to sit down.

The trio sat quietly for a while as Harry deliberated on a move. Ron was balancing his chin on the palm of his hand, waiting for Harry's effort. Suddenly, Ron sat upright.

"Hermione, you never did tell us where you were this summer."

"Oh, well, I don't know if I should, Ron. It was a safe house."

"Mum had us worried. I thought you had gone to live with …erm, well," Ron looked at Harry pleadingly to jump into the conversation.

"She kept saying it was a den of wolves," Harry added.

"It wasn't a den of wolves. My host was very pleasant."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Come on, Hermione, you can tell us," Harry said. "It's us. Harry and Ron. Best friends are supposed to share everything."

"Yeah," Ron said. "And that includes where we spend our summers."

Hermione swallowed nervously. "Do you swear that you won't overreact?"

"Swear it!" the boys said.

She looked around, kneading her hands into the orange shag carpet. "I was at Professor Snape's."

Harry basically shrieked; Ron spat in disgust. "Snape! You had to be alone with that greasy git?" Harry said.

"You swore you wouldn't overreact!"

"But…but…Snape!" Ron exclaimed, and spat again. "He's pure evil!"

Hermione's eyes flashed. "He is not evil! He's kind and he's thoughtful and intelligent…he's more than he lets on."

"What the hell is wrong with you, girl? Ever since last year, you've been weird about Snape," Harry said. "What do you know that we don't?"

"There's a lot I know that you don't, Harry. Professor Snape is a noble man and you'd do well to remember that."

"Noble? Do you remember all the times he's been unfair to us? To you?" Harry said heatedly. "Remember all the times he insulted you, Hermione? The unwarranted detentions? And now, you want us to believe that he's this noble creature?"

She grimaced. "He's changed."

Ron shook his head. "A leopard never changes his spots. Never. You can't just pretend that he spent our seven years at Hogwarts trying to make nice. He's probably planning something evil and heartless and he's trying to get you in his good graces."

"Never! Severus would…"

"Severus?!" the boys shrieked again. "Severus?"

"Yes! Severus! He's more than a professor to me, he is my…"

Ron interrupted her. "Friend? Snape is your friend? Maybe that run in with Malfoy was worse than I thought."

"Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about, Ron!"

"Maybe I do, Hermione! You're acting strange, you think I'm in love with you because I'm nice to you, you're calling Snape 'Severus'…you've gone mental!" Ron yelped.

Hermione's eyes blazed with anger, not unlike the type of look Professor Snape would have given him. "I said shut up, Ronald!"

"What, you've got some soft spot for Snape?" Harry questioned.

"Not a soft spot, Harry…"

"My god! I was right! You have gone mental!"

"Shut up, both of you!" Hermione screamed. "I know exactly what I'm talking about! I love him!"

The room was deathly silent. Ron stared at Hermione with a type of disgust on his face. He tried to speak, but he couldn't seem to make sense of what he wanted to say. Harry, on the other hand, turned away from Hermione, preferring to stare out the window. Hermione sat gripping the pillow that Ron had given her, tears streaming down her face. It was Harry who finally broke the silence. "I can't believe you would betray us this way, Hermione."

She broke into waves of undulating cries that seemed to settle into the blood of her best friends. Ron rushed to comfort her. "Hermione, please, don't cry. Please. Let's talk about it," he said in a hushed tone that was very much unlike him.

"I never meant to hurt anyone," Hermione gasped. "I didn't betray anyone."

Ron patted her shoulders. "I know. We have to talk this through." He looked at Harry. _Can't you at least try?_ he mouthed to him.

"Hermione," Harry said haltingly, "Please…just…I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to yell at you."

Ron hugged her and handed her a handkerchief. "I want to know if you realize what you said. Do you know you said that you love Snape?" She shook her head in the affirmative. Harry shuddered. Ron ignored him. "Could you tell me why?" he asked, even as he tasted the bile that was coming up with every word.

"Severus isn't the person you think he is, Ron. I've been with him for the past few months. I've learned about him. He's…he's the bravest man I've ever known."

Harry swallowed hard. "No one ever said he wasn't brave, Hermione."

Fresh tears fell from heavy eyelids. "Harry, you have no idea. I saw him after a Death Eater sabbat. It was so cruel. I cannot imagine how he does it, how he's done it all these years, how he can continue to put himself in this situation."

Ron smoothed her hair back from her forehead. "Tell us a little, Hermione. Tell us what you've seen."

"They beat him. I only saw him a week after the meeting, but it was still horrible. His entire face was nothing but a giant bruise. I cannot imagine the damage they inflicted on him, what it looked like when it was new. Even in his pain, though, he tried so hard to take care of me. I know you can't believe this, and Harry, I'm sorry if you feel like I have let you down, but it was never my intention to hurt anyone. He did nothing to me. He knows my feelings. He's tried to stop them. He thought maybe I loved him because he saved me…"

"Wait. Snape saved you? From what?" Harry asked.

Ron's eyes grew wide. "Malfoy. Snape found her after Malfoy's attack on her."

"No, Ron. He saved me. Severus stopped Malfoy from killing me. Didn't you know?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other for a long while as Hermione gently wept in the crook of Ron's arm. Finally, Harry spoke. "Professor Snape did that for you?"

"Yes."

"So, you began to have these feelings for him after he saved you from Malfoy?"

"Before. I can't lie to you, Harry. Those long hours of working with him so closely, you can't help but have feelings."

"Even…but you…you know how I feel about Snape," Harry began.

"Just because you don't like the professor, doesn't mean that our Hermione should feel the same. We're all different. Besides, if he stopped Malfoy, his little pet rat, from attacking her, doesn't that mean that there's something good inside of him anyway?" Ron asked fiercely. "I still don't like it, but I can't do anything about it. And Hermione is the same person she has always been. I trust her judgment. It's never done me wrong."

Harry pondered that fact for a moment. His emotions were getting the best of him, but he also knew that Ron was right. Hermione had always been the most grounded of the trio. It was her wisdom and guidance that helped them all through Hogwarts. Still, he couldn't help but ask the question that burned deep inside of him. "You've kissed him?"

She didn't respond. Ron and Harry looked at each other. "I guess that means yes," Ron whispered.

"Anything else that Ron and I might need to know about?" Harry asked slowly.

"No," she said, and Ron and Harry both sighed with relief. Harry and Ron both tried to dance around anything that Hermione would deem uncomfortable to talk about. Ron was bursting with questions about Snape and what he was like outside of school. Harry, on the other hand, wanted to know more about Gromnett, the house-elf. Hermione and the boys talked deep into the night. When she finally left Ron's room, she went to sleep with the feeling of a person who had a great weight taken off of their chest. Harry and Ron, however, whispered to each other long after their friend had gone to bed.

"It's no wonder your mum was losing it, Ron. I wonder what Dumbledore was thinking?"

"I wonder if he even knows?"

Harry rubbed his eyes, fighting sleep. "Of course he knows. It's Dumbledore we're talking about. He knows everything. Ron, what are we going to do?"

Ron clucked his tongue. "To be honest, Harry, I'm not sure we can do anything. It's not our place to tell Hermione what to do. She's her own person."

Harry thought about it for a moment. He had always thought of Ron as being the silly one and Hermione the wise one. Harry's summer with Ron in Eastern Europe changed a lot of his ideas about his best friend. Ron, although prone to practical jokes (as all Weasleys were), had a kind of wisdom that had grown over the years, especially since the encounter with Voldemort at the Department of Mysteries. Ron's intuition seemed to grow stronger over time, and Harry relied on his friend's council. Everyone seemed to notice it, even Hermione. Harry knew that Ron spoke the truth, but it was hard for him to admit it. Then, he remembered what he said to Hermione earlier that evening: _We can't stay mad at each other forever, can we? _Ron and Hermione were his best friends, and he loved them even when they were complete prats.

"I just want to make sure she's safe."

Ron smiled, yawned. "We all do, Harry. Now, let's go to sleep. It's 3:00 in the freaking morning."


	19. Regrets

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry that this chapter is short, but it is a transitional period of the story…

Chapter 18 – Regrets

Harry promised Hermione that he would write often when he left for London to work with the Ministry, but she had yet to hear from him months into his mentoring. Ron, who was in Dublin dealing with Quidditch teams, had sent two short notes to her. Hermione knew that her best friends were still hurt by her pronouncement of her feelings for Severus. She thought that perhaps they would get over the initial sting, but as time went on, she realized that she had misjudged them both.

Still no word from Severus. Hermione had dismissed it, knowing that he was occupied with Hogwarts' business. She had not attempted to owl him because of that very fact. The Weasleys were as accommodating as possible. Arthur and Molly both knew about her relationship with Severus, and they tried not to breach the subject. Everyone was uncomfortable with it, including Hermione. She cried herself to sleep most nights. It was a lonely hell. Hermione had never felt so empty. The isolation by itself was more than she wanted to deal with. She knew that Severus would never write; she knew his pride would never allow it. She desperately wanted to talk to him, to share her thoughts and feelings with him as she did during those summer months at Snape Manor. Hermione knew what she had to do. She took out her quill and parchment and began to write a letter.

> Dear Professor Snape,  
I know you're busy with school and everything, but I wanted…

She rumpled the page into a ball, threw it into the wastebasket, which promptly ate it (it had been enchanted by Fred and George years before). She grabbed another piece of paper and started again.

> Dear Severus,  
Hello. How are you? Is Hogwarts going well for you?

She stopped briefly, scratched the offending sentence out violently, and cut off the top of the page. Hermione knew that she was overly nervous. There was nothing to do but say what she felt inside. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and put quill to parchment. After an hour of thoughtful pauses and silent curses at herself, Hermione rolled the paper up and threw it away. Platitudes would not make her case. She needed to be direct.

Hermione decided to stop for a moment and think. She was tired. Ever since she had seen her mother lying dead on that slab at the mental institution, she had felt as though a small piece of her had died, also. The feelings of grief didn't really come, though. She wondered if she was going through a strange process of grieving that she had never read about. She wondered if she was being untrue to the memory of her dead mother. She sighed, laid her head down onto the desk, and went to sleep.

Dreams came quickly. She and Severus were back in the hallway, kissing one another, enacting all of their secret fantasies. There was no Dark Mark burning, no call from Voldemort to interrupt them. She dreamed about his mouth on her bare breast, and gave an involuntary shiver. Suddenly, she saw Draco Malfoy. He was standing there, watching them. "Mudblood! You'll die, the blood traitor will die!"

"No, no!" she screamed, but Draco pulled out his wand and killed Severus. She continued to scream, but no sound came out. It was almost as if she was reliving the horrible ordeal that Malfoy had put her through, but this time there was no Professor Snape to save her. Gromnett appeared, holding a fireplace poker, daring Malfoy to do his worst. Malfoy laughed, but disappeared, not before spitting on Severus' prone body.

Hermione woke up, rubbing her eyes and wondering what the dream meant. It was very quiet at the Burrow. No doubt Arthur was still at work and Molly was knitting somewhere downstairs. Hermione rummaged for a small piece of paper, dashed something down on it, sprayed it with her perfume and gave the letter to Errol, the dotty old owl who could barely fly. "Professor Snape, Hogwarts. Please hurry, Errol," she whispered to the poor bird. As she saw Errol fly away, she sat at the window and stared at the horizon. She wondered what Severus was doing at that very moment.

--

The students had noticed a change in Professor Snape. He was still the same ill-tempered bastard he had always been, but there was an obvious sadness, too, as though he had lost something important to him. Weeks passed, and the rumours flew, as rumours were wont to do at a boarding school. According to the entire second year Hufflepuff class, Professor Snape had lost his soul and couldn't find it. The third year Ravenclaws believed that the professor was a vampire, but had lost his taste for blood. The teachers did their best to dispel such gossip, but couldn't.

The teachers themselves wondered what made the potions master even more reclusive. They attempted to talk to him about it, but he sent them away. It was McGonagall who finally broke the silence. She barricaded Severus and herself in the teacher's lounge. "It's her, isn't it, Severus?"

He snapped the book he was reading shut and glared at her. "It's not her. It's nothing."

"I wouldn't say it's nothing. Everyone knows, Severus. Albus and myself are the only ones who know _who_."

Severus pondered her words for a moment. "Minerva, you cannot possibly expect me to believe that you think I'm a lovesick fool."

"_I_ never said lovesick fool, Severus. _You_ did."

He sighed. As usual, McGonagall bested him at his own game. "And you're certain you're not a Slytherin…"

"Of course I'm not a Slytherin. Stop changing the subject!" Professor McGonagall said, clearly exasperated. "You are pining for Miss Granger. I'm not leaving this room until you admit it."

"Indeed? Then you'll be here for quite a long time, Minerva. I have no intention of saying that."

"Fine. I'll have the Head Boy bring up my things. You'll have to crack sooner or later, Severus. I shall be here when that occurs." She sat in the chair she placed in front of the door and smiled sweetly, felinely, at him.

Severus stomped to the window. He hated it when Minerva McGonagall got the best of him, and he hated that she knew. He stared out the window for a long while and then finally gave up. He sat in the chair opposite his fellow professor and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Fine. Fine! I love her."

Minerva whistled low and adjusted her glasses. She fidgeted for a moment, and then placed her hand on Severus'. "What can I do?"

The question shocked him for a moment. "I…well, I… I suppose there is nothing you can do. I have to forget her."

"Severus Snape, I cannot believe we are having this conversation. I know this is high and mighty Gryffindor talk, but you shouldn't allow a little thing like age to get in the way." She sighed, left her chair. "You would do well to remember that she's not your student any more. You have nothing to stop you."

He stood there for a short time, thinking about Minerva's wise council, then went to his room. Severus sat in the well-worn leather chair in his quarters and rubbed his temples. He thought it would be easier to forget her after classes started, but it seemed to get worse every day. Severus looked at himself in the mirror. He noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the small crow's feet that started to show, the deepening frown lines. He moved closer to his reflection. The light reflected off of the little grey threads that appeared in his hair. Severus yanked a few out, but realized that his quest was in vain. He turned away quickly. "I'm so old," he admitted to himself.

He had heard nothing from Hermione Granger, and he thought he knew why. It was because of the terrible way they had said goodbye, or didn't say goodbye. He mentally kicked himself every time he contemplated of how he had made a mess of things. It was just like him to crush the flower of youth, he thought.

Severus softly touched the Dark Mark and winced with pain. It all came flooding back to him – the beatings, the betrayals, and the fear. He felt the pang of loneliness. He also felt the love and concern that Hermione had given him back at Snape Manor. There was no doubt about it. It was the love that hurt him most of all.

He heard a soft hoot, a giant _thump!,_ and leapt to his feet. Next to the window was an ancient bird with a parchment attached to his leg. He wondered who would be sending him a letter, until he smelled the delicate scent of gardenias. He opened the missive and saw her perfect cursive handwriting. What he saw made him smile, yet broke his heart into a million pieces.

_I miss you_.


	20. Holidays Abroad

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

Chapter 19 – Holidays Abroad

Christmas time had returned to England. The Weasley household was bursting with activity, full now that Hermione was staying with the family for the holidays. Ginny had elected to continue at Hogwarts ("I felt my duty as Head Girl would be neglected if I didn't"), but her presence was not missed. The rowdy twins, Ron, and Harry all ran to the back yard, playing Quidditch in the snow. Charlie was regaling Arthur with stories of dragons, while Bill, Percy, and Molly were sitting in the living room, discussing Ron's recent dating fiasco. Hermione was alone, but she preferred it that way. This year, Christmas would not have the glow that it previously had.

She stared into the fire in the kitchen and became lost in thought. Gromnett always stoked the fire at Snape Manor, but she had taken over the responsibility at the Burrow. It gave her something to do, something to take her mind off the last year of her life. The fire popped and sizzled from the fresh piece of wood Hermione had placed in it. The warmth drew her in closer, until she was sitting inches from the grate. The warmth of the fire caused her to think about Christmases with her parents at their house, how happy she was with them.

_The mother stacked the bundles, one on top of the other. There were a few sweaters, some argyle socks, a pair of saddle shoes, a doll and an electronic map of the stars that shown onto the ceiling. The father, dressed in a wool sweater and trousers, bent down to the tree and pulled a brightly wrapped gift from behind of it._

_The mother, dressed in a chenille robe and fuzzy bunny slippers, spied the father suspiciously. "Lionel, what's this?"_

_"Maris, don't start. I'll give you your special present later," he said, and winked at her._

_Maris smiled. She put her hand on her daughter's shoulder and lightly squeezed. "Hermione, let go of that doll. Look at Daddy."_

_"My precious, you have one more present, and this is a special one from Daddy. Open it…"_

_The little frizz haired girl sat cross-legged on the floor, shards of wrapping paper all around her. She ripped into the last present placed in front of her. Inside was a chemistry set._

_"Lionel! She's six years old, for Christ's sakes!" Maris smiled despite herself._

Lionel stood up, subconsciously dusting off his pants. "Maris, darling, Hermione is bright enough for this. She's bright enough for anything. Our little girl will change the world one day. Look at her. She's already wanting to start making secret potions…"

"Hermione! Are you all right?" It was Bill who found her on the floor, wailing in front of the fireplace. He called for Ron and Harry. Ron ran into the kitchen. He cradled Hermione in his arms, picked her up and carried her upstairs to Ginny's room.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" Ron asked.

She whimpered a bit, wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. "I never cried for my mother, Ron."

"You're crying now."

"It's too late. I cried for Severus but I never cried for my mother." She broke down into fresh tears.

He hugged her tighly and smoothed the hair out of her face. "It's never too late, Hermione. Tell you what, why don't you take a nap? Before you know it, it'll be time for dinner. Roast goose always makes me feel better," Ron smiled at her and left the room. Hermione fell asleep.

Molly entered the room a few hours later. She closed the door tightly and sat on the edge of Ginny's bed. Hermione was still asleep, clutching the blanket next to her. Molly smiled. She still needed a mother and father, she thought. It pained her that Hermione couldn't see the concern and love that she and Arthur had for her. She gently shook her awake. "Hermione, dearie, we're nearly ready to open gifts. Will you join us?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes, yawned. "Mrs. Weasley, how long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours. You looked like you needed a good rest. I can't keep the boys waiting much longer. I think Fred and George are going to torment Percy for fun if I don't get their presents to them. Molly and Hermione walked downstairs, and Molly took her place next to her husband. Hermione sat next to Ron, Harry on the other side of him. Each one of the boys was wearing one of Molly's terrible Weasley jumpers. Fred and George sat beside them, and Hermione knew they were wearing the wrong sweaters by the looks on their faces. Percy, Bill, and Charlie did not wear their sweaters, but were dressed in comfortable clothes, Bill looking as if he had just Apparated from Fleet Street. Hermione noticed that Molly was wearing a green velveteen dress with old, moth-eaten lace, and that Arthur was wearing a threadbare gown with what looked like poinsettia stitched on it. Although she knew that the Weasleys were poor, she had never thought they were this impoverished.

There were gifts wrapped in shiny foil paper and bright colours. Arthur took his place as head of household, handing out boxes to the oldest children first, then to the twins, and finally to Ron. Molly grinned at Harry and Hermione. "Don't think we didn't forget you lot, either," she joked, as she passed a few boxes their way.

Harry ripped into his gifts first. Inside he found a large quantity of homemade fudge and a sweater with an "H" emblazoned in the middle, the same gifts he received from the Weasleys every year. Hermione knew she would probably receive similar gifts, but looked forward to opening them anyway. She tore the wrapping off one. It was a toffee egg, handmade by Mrs. Weasley. She smiled and thanked her, then began unwrapping the next gift. Instead of a sweater, however, she saw a vintage witch's peak hat, with netting and a few feathers. She was shocked. The hat was obviously from the turn of the century, perhaps older. She wondered where Molly and Arthur had gotten such a beautiful hat, and why they would give it to her. Before she opened her mouth to speak, however, Arthur began talking.

"Hermione, love, don't you like it?"

"Of course I like it," she stammered. "I was just wondering…"

"We didn't go to a lot of trouble. It used to belong to Arthur's grandmother," Molly explained.

Hermione's eyes grew wide. She put the hat on her head. Charlie and Bill made catcalls to her; Harry and Ron whistled, and Percy turned a light pink in appreciation. "But it's an heirloom…"

"Ginny didn't want it. Arthur thought you might like to have it," Molly said. Arthur nodded in agreement.

Hermione leapt to her feet and ran to Arthur, giving him a tight hug. She did the same to Molly. "Thank you so much. It's the nicest thing anyone's done for me."

Arthur smiled. "Hermione, you're part of our family. I hope you never forget that."

Ron grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and motioned to her to go upstairs with him. She walked into his room and sat on the bed while he dug around in his tallboy. He handed her a small box. "Open it," he said.

Hermione did as Ron asked, and found a gold filigree fountain pen with an amethyst embedded near the top. "Do you like it?" Ron asked awkwardly.

"It's…" For once, Hermione's extensive vocabulary failed her. She sat on the bed, mouth agape, staring at the gift Ron had given her.

"Please don't think I'm trying to buy your emotions," Ron said slowly, remembering the fight the two had the last time he had given her an extravagant gift. "I saw this in a Muggle shop, and I thought you'd like it. Don't tell Harry. I didn't get him anything like this. He'll get jealous."

"Ron… why?"

He shrugged. "Just felt like it."

Hermione closed the lid on the box and held onto the package with a firm grip. "Ron, it's beautiful, but I just don't know if I should accept it. What if your parents find out? What if Harry finds out? Or your brothers?"

"Who cares? Besides, I felt guilty."

"Guilty? Why?"

Ron sat next to her on the bed. "I've been treating you like dragon's dung ever since I found out about you and Professor Snape. I just… I… oh, bloody hell." He stumbled through his apology. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm not accepting it, though. I hate it; I don't understand it. But I'll always be there for you."

---

Severus wrapped the cloak around him tightly. The wind was vicious around the lake, whipping up the freshly fallen snow that blanketed Hogwarts' grounds. The youngest Weasley was still there, staying behind with the young students for Christmas holidays. Such kindness, he thought. It would be like something Hermione would do.

Hermione seemed to dominate every thought Severus had. She haunted his dreams every night. When he looked into the sea of students he taught, it was her eyes that looked back at him. He had tried to disregard her, but it was wasted energy on his part. When she wrote the letter a few weeks back, he knew that it was too late. There was a bond between them, something that could not be broken. As much as he tried to forget, Severus knew that there was something he and Hermione would share. He wanted to share more with her.

Severus never wanted to change because the problems it would impose on his position as an emissary. He exuded the confidence of an arrogant son of a bitch, but deep inside, he knew that he was nothing but a damaged, broken man who was afraid of truly living. She had brought out the better angels in his nature, a thing that was still novel and frightening to him. She had changed him in ways he never thought possible. He missed her. He missed her quiet yawns, the click of her knitting needles, the soft, even breathing when she fell asleep in the chair in front of the fireplace. He glanced toward the castle, thinking of the puddings and roasted goose that waited for him at the Head Table. He looked to the north, knowing Hermione Granger was spending another Christmas with the Weasley clan. "Oh, blast it all," Severus muttered, and trudged toward the castle. He would not be having Christmas dinner alone tonight, if he had his way.

---

The Weasleys were sitting around the parlour energetically singing Christmas carols. The knock on the door would have been missed completely had it not been for Percy walking into the kitchen for a fresh glass of milk. "Dad? There's someone at the door. You want me to get it?" he yelled.

"Sure, sure, son!" Arthur replied as the group broke into "The Carol of the Bells".

Percy, juggling the glass of milk and a huge stack of shortbread in one hand, opened the door. "Professor Snape!" he exclaimed. "Uh, Happy Christmas, sir! Won't you come in?"

Severus nodded curtly and walked into the house. Percy ran into the other room, which suddenly became very quiet. Arthur rushed into the kitchen, Molly following close behind him.

"Severus, may I ask why you've decided to ruin our holiday, or should I assume I know the answer?" Arthur inquired.

Snape dusted the snow off of his shoulders and drew himself to his full height, looking Arthur squarely in the eyes. "Arthur, Molly, Happy Christmas. I have come to enjoy it with you. I trust that Miss Granger is here?"

"It's clear that you're not here to spend the holidays with _us_," Molly replied, "but I will ask _Hermione_ if she wants you to stay." She left to discuss the situation with Hermione.

Arthur and Severus stared at each other. "Snape, do you understand how badly you hurt Hermione the last time you graced my doorway?" Severus nodded in the affirmative. Arthur continued, "I just want to say that if you hurt her again, I will not be so kind to you."

"If my presence here is so unsavoury, I would be more than willing to leave," Severus said silkily. He looked down at his shoe. What if Hermione was still upset with him for the way he left her at the Burrow? What if she was angry with him for not replying to the owl she sent? Would she want to see him? A small current of fear ran through him and the seconds felt like hours. Finally, he saw her on the other side of the doorway. Arthur and Molly left the room, and Severus and Hermione were alone. Both were silent for a long while.

"You received my owl?"

"Yes. Miss Granger…" He put his hands on her shoulders, bent down to smell her hair. She looked up, her mouth scant inches from his.

"Don't talk." She kissed him.

To Severus, the kiss was life. It was water to his parched soul. He drank her in deeply, but abruptly broke away. His hands were still on her shoulders.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't stay; I'm sorry I didn't respond to your letter."

She smiled. "I never thought you would come back, Severus."

Her candour warmed his heart. Severus allowed a brief smile to cross his face. "I couldn't stay away any longer. I had to tell you."

Hermione put her finger to his lips. "Shhh," she cooed, much as he had done to her so many months ago. "You don't have to say."

"But I must." He took her hand in his, led her to the kitchen table. He brushed her hair away from her face. She wiped her eyes; still glistening with the tears she had shed. Severus handed her his wand and said gently, "Take it. You know what to do."

Hermione grabbed his wand and calmly said, "Legilmens." She saw him sitting by her side next to the roaring fire, their hands intertwined. The sound of her tears matched with Severus' own weeping. She saw his hands trembling as he read the letters she sent him over and over. She thought she heard "I love you" in his voice. She shook her head. Everything was getting blurry, hazy. She was roused back to the present.

Hermione heard him whisper, "Do you hear me, Miss Granger? God knows I've tried not to, but I can't help it". Severus lifted her hand to his lips, softly kissing each finger, the palm of her hand and her slender wrist. "Hermione, I've missed you."

She shivered. "That's all I wanted to hear, Severus."

In the living room, the Weasleys, along with Harry, sat quietly while Hermione and Snape talked. They were surprised at the turn of events, with Percy expressing his outrage over the situation. Charlie and Bill were more level-headed. Arthur was stoic. Molly and Harry whispered to themselves, while Ron sat in relative silence.

"I cannot believe he had the nerve to show up here," Harry grimaced.

"I wonder if she knows what she's getting into," Percy said. "He's a teacher, and she was his student! It's unacceptable!"

"It's her life, Percy," Bill said evenly. "She's not a student any longer. She's free to see whomever she chooses."

"It's disgusting," Molly said. Harry shook his head in agreement.

"I concur with Bill," Charlie said. "Who are we to say what she can and cannot do?"

Various Weasleys murmured heatedly with one another until Arthur cleared his throat. The family became quiet. "No matter what we might feel personally about it," he began, and stared directly at Molly and Harry, "we cannot treat Hermione any less than we would if she were dating another Hogwarts student. Bill is correct in saying that it is Hermione's right to decide. Percy is correct in looking into the moral and ethical quandaries that Hermione faces.

"But let me be clear about this. Hermione is part of this family, and as Weasleys, I should expect that each and every one of you treat her the same way you would treat your brothers and sister. I can't say I'm happy with Hermione's judgment, but I will support her."

Percy heard the squeak of the wooden floor jamb and quieted everybody. "Someone's headed this way!" he hissed.

Hermione appeared at the door. She looked into the faces of those assembled in the parlour, those people she loved and cared about. She saw shock, confusion, and in some cases, rage. Hermione looked at Arthur, who was sitting on the edge of his chair, tight lipped. She smiled weakly at him. "I've… I've decided to, um, go to Hogwarts with Professor Snape for the rest of the holiday. This evening. I, um, I'll give Ginny any message you'd like."

Harry stood up and left the room, followed closely by Percy. Hermione heard their angry steps up the stairs and the slamming of doors. She knew that her announcement was not popular. "I'll help you pack, Hermione," Bill said. He stood up and held out his hand to her. Charlie soon followed, and she embraced him.

The three swiftly packed her duffel. Bill and Charlie gave her hugs and went to their rooms. She started down the stairs but stopped, knocked on Ron's door. She heard Harry mutter something irritably, but Ron welcomed her in.

"I just wanted to say goodbye," she began awkwardly. "I'll be back right before school starts again. Do you want me to send a message to Ginny, Harry? Ron, do you?"

Harry turned away from her. Ron grabbed her, held onto her hands. "Hermione, no matter what, you're still my best friend. Now, get out of here." He smiled at her. Hermione could hear Harry's clear "hrmph!" from the corner.

"Harry. Harry, listen to me. I'm sorry I hurt you. It was never my intention." Then she left, presumably downstairs to return to Hogwarts with Snape.

Ron closed the door behind her and turned toward his friend. His ears were glowing red with anger. "Harry Potter, you selfish bastard," Ron began.

"Selfish! Selfish! She takes off with... with…him! I thought maybe she'd get over this hero worship of him, but now it's gone too far! It's bloody _Snape_! He's nearly killed me as many times as he's saved me, and she knows it! I cannot forgive her for this fling she's having with him!" Harry spat his words out viciously. "Just because her parents have died doesn't mean she's got a free pass to act as recklessly as she wants to!"

"Take that back!" Ron snarled. "We're talking about her mom and dad. You were just as stupid when Sirius died, and you only knew him for a few years. You were a sorry son of a bitch for a long time, Harry, and who stood by you? Hermione did. Not me, I couldn't handle your crap, but Hermione could. She was always there for you, and when she needs you by her side, you dump her! You ungrateful… get the hell out of my room!"

Harry stood out in the hall as Ron slammed the door in his face. "Fine! Take her side, Ron. I knew you would! You're so blind to your love for her that you can't see what she's doing! I don't care!"

Ron opened the door, threw out a handful of Harry's things into the hallway. "Shut up! You don't know what you're talking about. I'm not taking her side, you dolt! I'm doing what's right." He slammed the door again.

Harry sat in the entryway, his clothes strewn over the floor; feathers flying out of the pillow that Ron hurled against the wall. He had his head in his hands. Ron was probably right about this, he thought. Hermione was the one who stood by him all through school, and here he was abandoning her. It was all Snape's fault. He wanted to punch him, to hex him beyond recognition. Harry tried to think about what would make Hermione claim she was in love with Professor Snape, but he couldn't picture it. He couldn't think at all.

He wished Ginny were there. She always knew what to say to help him understand a girl's point of view. All he had was Ron, and that thread was tenuously held. "Best to sleep on it tonight," he said to himself. "Tomorrow, I'll tell Ron I'm sorry."


	21. Au Fait

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

Chapter 20– Au Fait

Severus Snape's arrival at Hogwarts with Hermione Granger in tow caused quite a stir. Dumbledore and McGonagall were the only people at the school who did not audibly gasp when they appeared with each other in the Great Hall. Rumours flew even faster when Severus and Hermione sat next to each other at the table during evening meal.

After dinner, Professor Snape retired to his quarters, while Hermione, along with Professor McGonagall, climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. "Miss Granger," McGonagall began, "this is highly unorthodox, but I will let you stay in Gryffindor Tower while you're here. Take your pick of bedrooms. If you'd like to room with Miss Weasley, you may. I'll have one of the house-elves bring up a cot and some blankets if you'd like."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall."

"You're welcome, Miss Granger. I think you should know that Professor Snape always begins his mornings at the lake at this time of the year, in case you'd like to run into him." She turned to the Fat Lady to give the password. "Jolly House-Elf. Take care, Hermione." McGonagall smiled, turned away.

Hermione walked into the passageway. It seemed so long ago that she first had stepped foot into Gryffindor Tower. It had the familiar ambience of home, but Hermione could not shake the uncomfortable feeling that she should not be there. She sat in the leather chair in front of the fireplace and stared into the flames. She didn't hear Ginny Weasley enter the room.

"Hermione, I know what's going on with you and the professor," she began.

"Allow me to explain," Hermione interjected.

"No. There's no need to explain. Ron's told me everything. Harry's told me everything, too. I don't know whom to believe, but there's one thing I know for sure. It's your choice."

"What did they say?"

Ginny sat down in the chair opposite Hermione. "Well, you know Ron. He skirted around the issue but I think I had it figured out. Harry, that was a different story. He wrote this huge parchment" – Ginny held her arms out – "and every other word was 'bloody Snape'. He told me not to tell you, but who cares what he thinks? Anyway, I gather than Harry is as angry as a wet badger, and Ron isn't much better, but he'll deal."

Hermione stared at the floor. "I didn't plan on it."

"I know. You never do." Ginny looked at her with such earnestness that Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"I'm happy when I'm with Severus…" Ginny made a face like she bit into a lemon. "Professor Snape, I mean. I'm very happy with him, happier than I've ever been. He understands me, Ginny. He knows my deepest thoughts and shares them."

"This has nothing to do with the fact that he's been teaching you Occlumency?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

Hermione laughed. "You sound like Ron. No, this isn't just him reading my mind. This is deeper. This is real. He's different than you could imagine, Ginny. You'd be surprised at what I know."

Ginny snorted. "You wouldn't tell me, would you?"

"No. I've got to keep it a secret. You understand, don't you?"

Ginny shook her head in the affirmative. "Not just a little hint?"

"No. I really wish I could, though. It's quite fascinating."

The two friends caught up on Hogwarts gossip and talked for hours. Finally, Ginny yawned. "Hermione, I've got to go to bed. I've got to work on an essay for Professor Flitwick and I'm doing some extra studying for Care of Magical Creatures, so I'm spending most of the day with Hagrid. It's going to be a rough day. Are you coming with me?"

Hermione agreed. "Sleep would be good. I have a lot to do tomorrow."

"I'll bet you do," Ginny said slyly.

---

The halls of Hogwarts were silent. Severus stalked the corridors, trying to burn nervous energy before heading to bed, where he knew he would not be able to sleep. He had done it. He told Miss Granger his feelings. Why didn't it make him feel any better? He knew that her love for him had basically ruined her friendships with Weasley and Potter. Hell, the Weasley family entire was torn by his arrival at their house. He wandered through the halls, mentally kicking himself.

Peeves the Poltergeist flew in and out of the walls. "Ooooh, Professorhead! Greasy git you are! In love with a girl, oooh ooh!" the spirit said snidely as he flew into a suit of armour and caused the mouth of the helmet to flop up and down. "The Great and Powerful Snapelypoo robs the cradle!"

"Silence, Peeves!" Snape barked, and the poltergeist scurried away, but not before he blew a raspberry.

Severus went back to his quarters and sank into his chair, rubbing his temples and sighing to himself. The darkest of all maidens, sleep, had finally decided to visit him. He dozed in front of the fireplace, his mind wandering.

_She walked in front of him wearing the gold and scarlet ensemble she wore to graduation. She had twisted her long hair into a chignon and rimmed her eyes sooty black, which made her look alluring and innocent all at once. He walked toward her, holding out his arms, wanting to cup her face in his hands. She smiled._

_"Severus," she moaned, "I have waited a lifetime for this moment."_

_He moved closer to her, inhaling her delicate scent. She took the pins out of her thick, tumultuous hair and Severus watched as it fell to her shoulders. He closed his eyes as she slipped her arms around him. "Hermione…"_

"Shhhh, lover," she whispered. "We must be silent."

_"Hermione…"_

_She unhooked his buttons easily, slipped his clothing to the floor. He inhaled sharply as she moved over his exposed flesh, her feather light kisses burning a trail down his chest. Severus put his hands in her hair, kneading them into the strands. Needing something to hold onto._

_She stepped back, smiled at him boldly. "Severus, haven't you wanted this?" she sighed, as she leisurely removed her cloak, her shoes, the sheer silk stockings she wore underneath the brocade gown. "Haven't you dreamed about this?"_

_"Ever since you kissed me in the dungeon," he admitted._

_"I knew that," she said. She laughed - haughty, knowing. She snapped her fingers and the golden dress disappeared._

Severus gasped. He knew it was a dream then, but he couldn't wake up. The desire was too great. The need was too strong. He rushed headlong into the fantasy.

_She moved closer to him. Severus touched her; his trembling hands sliding down her back. He slowly unhooked her undergarment and took it off. There were a few freckles on her chest. He bent to kiss them. Hermione took a deep breath._

_Severus felt as though Hermione's skin was on fire. He rose, crushed her lips against his, and quickly took the rest of her clothing off. He took a step back and stared at her. She blushed faintly. He picked her up and brought her to the bed. Hermione collapsed under Severus' weight, opened herself to him, and cried out sharply when he entered her. He quickly kissed her, their tongues echoing the ancient dance their bodies were recreating._

Severus finally stirred. Beads of sweat ran down his face and dripped onto his shirt. He glanced down to his lap and shook his head. The dream had been too real, he thought, a pity, too. The pants would have to be washed immediately. Severus walked to his bedroom, stripped himself of his soiled garments and collapsed into bed. He fell back into a deep sleep, exhausted.

---

Hermione woke, refreshed. The sun was beaming through the windows of Gryffindor Tower. She admitted that it was a pleasant way to wake up. She propped herself up with her elbows and looked around the room. It was completely different than when she was Head Girl. The room was still white, as per the Hogwarts custom, but Ginny had a vibrancy that Hermione never did. There was a sense of excitement and colour that Hermione could never imagine.

Ginny's bedspread was riotous with colour; ribbons of blue, yellow, red, green, and purple ran through the well-worn cloth. The entire south wall of the bedroom was filled with pictures of friends and family. Ginny had her broom mounted on the eastern wall along with a poster of Great Quidditch Teams of History. The desk was messy, filled with inkpots, pieces of loose parchment, and books piled high to the ceiling.

Hermione lay on her back and stared at the ceiling. She noticed there was something different about it, and then she realized that Ginny – or one of Ginny's friends – had enchanted the ceiling to flash different colours in a rainbow pattern. Hermione thought it was rather clever. Ginny had already risen, dressed, and was quietly working on her essay for Flitwick. Hermione jumped to her feet and stretched. "Good morning, Ginny!" she said cheerfully.

"Good morning, Hermione. I've put your stuff behind the screen" – she motioned toward an empty spot near her bed – "and you can get dressed there."

"Ginny, there's nothing there."

"Oh. Sorry. I've rendered it invisible. It makes anything behind it invisible, too. I don't know why I did it, but it seemed like something cool to have in a room. Anyway, your bags are there. If you hurry, we can make breakfast."

Hermione did hurry and the two ran towards the Great Hall for their morning meal. She glanced towards the Head Table. Severus was not there. Disappointed, she followed Ginny to the Gryffindor table, where a few timid first years and their friends from other houses sat munching on the morning's repast. Ginny's appetite was as large as her brother Ron's. She had a few plump sausages, a poached egg, and four pieces of toast with marmalade along with milk and juice. Hermione, on the other hand, had only a small bowl of porridge. She looked again in the direction of the Head Table and sighed. If she were with Severus at his home right now, she could have some of Gromnett's delicious cookery instead of the school food that had somehow lost its flavour.

"What's the matter, Hermione? Bad cream in your porridge?" Ginny asked playfully.

"No, Ginny. I'm just thinking."

The duo finished their meal. Ginny began towards the grounds, but then abruptly stopped. "Oh, Hermione, I hope you don't mind, but I have to go to Hagrid's for a class assignment. Do you need the password for the Tower?"

"No, I know it. Besides, I have some things I need to do myself. I'll see you at lunch, okay?" Hermione smiled, then headed toward the dungeons. This time, she thought, there would be nothing Severus could say to stop her.

---

Severus spent most of the morning labelling various ingredients for his classes. It was the part of his duties as a professor that he hated most, but he couldn't trust any of his students to do a proper job. He, and he alone, was the only person he could have confidence in.

_Oh, but that's no longer true, Severus_. _What about Professor Dumbledore?_

I hate having a conscience,Severus thought. "He let Black go." He growled to himself.

_Severus…you know Sirius Black was innocent of all charges._ "He tried to kill me," Severus muttered.

_It doesn't matter. Dumbledore always does what is best. Besides, he's not the only person you trust, Severus._

He dropped a vial of wormwood; it sputtered onto the stone floor. Severus groaned. He dropped to his knees, grabbed a cloth and began scrubbing the liquid before it stained the floor. _Severus…you can't run from me. You know whom I'm talking about._

"I know! I know," he said to himself. "And I also know that having arguments with one's self is the first sign of madness."

_Don't fight me. You trust Miss Granger. If you didn't, you wouldn't be in love with her._

"I do trust her. Now, stop bothering me."

_Who else, Severus?_

"No one else."

_Liar!_ Severus felt a sharp pain. Arguing with his inner self always gave him a terrible headache. _You hate saying this, but deep down, you trust Potter. Admit it! You trust him._

"No, I hate that boy. I hate him. He's a boil on the face of humanity. I don't trust him."

_You can't fool yourself, Severus. Stop trying because you'll only fail._ The little voice inside became quiet. Severus found himself on the floor, trying to clean up the glass from the vial he dropped. After he wiped the liquid and the broken glass into his cloth and disposed of it, he ran into his ready room and splashed his face with cool water. He heard the door slowly open and knew who his visitor was. Severus took a deep breath, adjusted his shirt collar, and went back into his classroom.

He looked up and saw Hermione standing in the doorway. She had pulled her hair back. "Severus," she began, "might I be of some assistance?"

He smirked. "You want to spend the day locked up in this musty dungeon with me putting labels on various disgusting items?"

"There's no other place I'd rather be," she replied.

He pulled a chair up to the table he was working at. She sat directly in front of him. "You'll see that some of these labels are discoloured, some are torn and some are altogether missing," he said. "The missing ones you'll want to give directly to me so I can determine what they are. The rest you can easily do yourself."

They sat in silence for an hour until they had successfully relabelled the entire supply closet. Severus stood to his feet and stretched. Hermione stifled a laugh.

"What's funny?"

"I was thinking that when I was your student, you would never have yawned in front of us."

"And that's funny how, Miss Granger?"

"It proves that you're human."

Severus smiled for the first time since Hermione had entered the room. "Was there any doubt?"

Hermione shook her head yes. "You've said it yourself." She said in jest. "Now, will you stop calling me Miss Granger? We're past that, you know."

The room was quiet for a while. Hermione began to tidy the room up; she dusted the cobwebs off of the charts near the back of the room. Severus went back into his ready room. Hermione heard running water. She assumed he was taking a quick shower to rid himself of the smell of the chemicals that he had spilled. When Severus returned to the classroom, his hair was pulled back, and he wasn't wearing the long, black robe. He walked to his desk and sat down. "I have missed you, Hermione. It gets lonely here during the term."

Hermione stopped dusting the jars on the shelves and turned to him. "Don't you have people to talk to? What about Professor McGonagall? Professor Dumbledore?"

"They are colleagues and sometimes friends, but they aren't the same as someone with whom you don't have to feel so guarded. Do you understand?" Hermione nodded her head slowly. She understood completely. Severus continued, "Erstwhile childhood friends are all Death Eaters, or dead. It's a lonely life. Nothing dulls the loneliness."

Hermione walked to Severus, placed her hand on his shoulder. "Severus, won't you let me in? Can't I help you?"

"You already have," he said softly, and pulled her to him.

"I dreamed about you last night," Hermione said shyly.

"As I you," Severus replied.

"I was wondering if we…"

The professor interrupted her. "Hermione, you have to understand there's no we."

"Yes, there is."

Severus groaned. "It's a difficult situation. You are a student of mine."

"Was. I _was_ a student of yours. I don't attend Hogwarts anymore. No one can fault us, Severus. No one can stop us." Hermione said empathically.

"I can."

"No. You can't stop it. It's second nature to us now, Severus. Can't you see that I love you?"

Severus stood to his feet, walked toward the shivering Hermione. "I know you do. I can't pretend that I don't want this. But you have to see the matter from my point of view, and you need to be familiar with things. Until there has been some separation between your Hogwarts years and our relationship, people will think that I had taken advantage of you. I will not have that sort of nonsense ruining my vocation. I've worked too hard for it. Secondly, and most importantly, The Dark Lord is still among us. I cannot have you become a pawn in his game."

"I already am, because of Harry," she interjected.

"No, it's not the same. The Dark Lord would take you from me and torture you to prove my loyalty to him. I can't hurt you. I can't ever have that happen to you. That's why we must stop this now."

"Why? I don't understand." Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide. Severus felt an overwhelming sadness when he looked into them.

"If you don't understand after all I've told you, then you will never understand. When I became a spy for The Order of the Phoenix, I had to hide my feelings. I became a master Legilimens to do so. I had to learn to deny myself. If Voldemort knew that we were together, he would kill you. He would…have you ever seen a man wither from the inside out? Have you seen someone flayed alive? I have. He does that for fun. He'd kill you as he has everyone else."

Hermione swallowed hard. She wondered what had happened, who Severus had seen tortured, until she remembered the last time they had studied Occulmency. Hermione gasped. It was a realization that shook her to the core.

"Xavier…"

Severus' tone was automatic, as if he were a robot. "Yes. And Lucretia. Voldemort knew they were my friends. They refused to join his side, so he murdered them in front of me. It was an initiation rite of sorts. The night before he bound me to him with this cursed tattoo, he killed them. He told me that I must always be devoted to him or else. He would destroy everything I love in order to have my undivided attention. He would probably do the most unmentionable things to you because you have taken my attention away from him. It's a death sentence for you. Until Voldemort has been defeated, we can't. Do you understand now?"

---

Lucius Malfoy stood, snarling, as Petrova and Gagne stood by the side of the dark master. Petrova, a tall, lumbering man of Baltic heritage, hulked beside Gagne, a small French-Canadian with blond hair. Malfoy always felt the two wizards were beneath him. Voldemort, however, was no respecter of persons. In fact, Voldemort respected no one. Malfoy knew his lord's distain for lesser wizards, and tried to exalt himself to be in Voldemort's good graces. For the most part, it worked.

"Dominic, will you leave Lucius and I alone? I have no further use for you here. Go, until I call for you again." The Dark Lord slithered.

"Yes, milord," Gagne replied. "Come, Sasha." Petrova followed the shorter man to the edge of the wood.

Voldemort smiled, his thin lips curled into what could only be called a hideous masque. "Lucius, it is time that we put our plan into action."

Malfoy bowed low to his master. "Oh, sovereign lord Voldemort,"

"Silence, Malfoy. Your simpering disgusts me. Stand up, now!"

Malfoy stood and glared at the wizard. He caught his emotions and took a subservient role. "Yes, Voldemort."

"He is at Hogwarts now. You know as well as I do that I cannot enter the grounds of the school, thanks to that enchantment Dumbledore has placed on it. We need a lookout, Lucius. Watch him closely. See if he plans on leaving the property. As soon as he does, come to me. I will collect him myself."

"Oh, but lord, you must have confidence in me…"

"Silence! I do not trust you. I do not trust anyone, least of all someone who is looking after himself. I know all about you, Malfoy. The reason I haven't disposed of you yet is because you are valuable to me. Know this is why you live, and be thankful. Now, leave my sight, you repulsive worm." Voldemort began to laugh. "Oh, this will be rich! Severus Snape, you filthy spy. You will soon breathe your last!"


	22. The Final Obstacle Falls

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

Chapter 21 – The Final Obstacle Falls

It was the last day of break. Hermione was preparing to return to the Burrow. Ron sent an owl to Ginny with instructions that he would come to accompany Hermione home. Hermione thought it was strange that Ron would send the note to Ginny and not to her directly. She knew that her leaving abruptly had opened some sort of wound in her friend. Then there was the matter of Harry. She still didn't know if Harry would be there to welcome her. She was afraid that she had lost his friendship forever. It hurt her deeply to know that Harry couldn't be happy for her. She understood, however, the betrayal that Harry must have felt.

She had spent the two previous days in meaningful conversation with Severus, walking around the grounds of the school. Once or twice, he had taken her hand while strolling. It warmed her heart, yet made her feel a little depressed. The barrier that he put between them could never be torn down; no matter how hard she tried. Hermione knew that things had changed in her life far beyond anything she could have ever imagined, but she would never go back. She knocked on Severus' classroom door. He bid her entrance, then took her hand and left the room. They started heading toward the Slytherin common area. Hermione nervously chattered the whole way.

"Severus, where are we going?" she asked.

"I wish to be alone with you," Snape replied. He paused and opened the door to his quarters. "Ladies first."

Hermione walked into the room. It seemed like he had taken a slice of Snape Manor and brought it to Hogwarts. She noticed that he had a huge library of Muggle books on the wall. "Aren't you afraid that the Slytherins will find out about your collection of Muggle literature?" she queried.

"Hermione, for once, will you shut your mouth?"

She stopped talking and Severus put his hands on her shoulders, bent to kiss her. Their tongues met and they fell onto a chair, caressing one another. Hermione gasped when Severus placed his hand on her breast and lightly squeezed. Severus stood up, drawing Hermione up with him. They never broke contact on the kiss. He scooped her up and took her to his bedroom. When Snape placed her on the bed, Hermione finally asked the question she had been wondering since he brought her to his room.

"What exactly do you plan on doing?"

He secured the door and moved close to her. "No talking." He kissed her again. The kiss seemed to deepen every second. Severus was soon hovering over Hermione. He looked into her eyes. It was at that moment she knew what it was he wanted.

"Won't someone hear us?" she whispered. "What about…well, you know?"

"I've taken all precautions, Hermione," Severus said huskily. "Do you want this?"

Hermione paused. Her emotions and logic seemed to battle one another. She wanted to be intimate with him, to feel the fierce passion that he kept denying they had; but she wanted to keep the relationship going slowly. She knew that somewhere out there, the Dark Lord was lying in wait for Severus. Until she could be sure that her heart would survive, she was afraid to let go.

_But think about it, Hermione. Who has more to lose than Severus?_ She thought to herself. _Didn't he just say that he couldn't get involved until after Voldemort was out of their lives forever?_

"Severus," she said quietly, "I thought there was no we."

"I lied," he said candidly.

She saw, hidden within him, his plaintive longing to be part of something bigger than himself. It broke her heart, because she, too, understood that longing. She wanted it for herself. However, there was something else, something that caused her to wonder if this was what she truly wanted or needed. She took a deep breath and put her hand to his chest.

"Severus, you know that I love you, right?"

He shook his head yes, and turned away from her. "I…I understand. Perhaps now is not the right time. I'm sorry I've conducted myself in this manner."

"No, no, Severus, wait. I just…I'm afraid. I'm afraid of all the things that are happening around us. Harry and Ron know everything, V-voldemort's still out there…"

Severus swallowed hard. He understood her fear, felt it. "You don't have to say anything else."

She moved toward him, put her head on his shoulder. Severus smiled briefly, lay back upon the bed and wrapped his arms around Hermione. He kissed the top of her head and languidly moved to her lips. She returned the kiss, and before she realized what had happened, she had rolled onto her back. He caressed her, softly kissing her cheek, neck and shoulders. She ran her fingers through his hair and brushed it out of his face. She smiled shyly. They laid close together, neither saying a word, until Hermione looked deep into his eyes and whispered her love to him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and slowly, very slowly, they began their most private conversation, a duet without words. When they were finished, Severus laid beside her, stroking her arms. They stayed, poised in this amorous position, until Hermione looked out the window and saw that the sun was shining through.

"Severus, do you think it's noon?"

---

Ron and Harry sat quietly in McGonagall's office, waiting for Hermione to arrive with her bags. The professor offered them each a cookie and a cup of tea while they sat. Ron, especially, marvelled at how nice Professor McGonagall seemed when she was no longer their teacher.

"So, I hear from Ginny that you are working with a Quidditch team, Ron? Which one, exactly?" McGonagall asked.

"Yeah. It's fun. It's not just one squad; we go around to different teams working with their public relations agents. I get to see Oliver Wood at times. He's exactly the same, Professor," Ron began.

The door opened slightly. McGonagall's glasses slid to the end of her nose, and she peered over them. "Professor Snape, it's a surprise to see you here."

Snape stood between the boys and Hermione. Harry glowered at him; Ron ignored him. Hermione looked around Snape and caught Ron's eye. She waved hello.

"Potter! I thought Mr. Weasley would be the one to escort Hermione back to his parents' home?" Snape asked.

"Yeah, well, I decided to come, too," Harry said flippantly. "I couldn't wait to see you again, _sir_."

Hermione cleared her throat. Snape glared at Harry, but said nothing else. Hermione stepped around him, hugged Ron, and turned to Harry. "Hi, Ron. I'm happy to see you," she said.

Harry only nodded. Ron smiled at Hermione and hugged her again. "We're both happy to see you, too, aren't we Harry? D'ya have your things?"

"They are out in the hallway. Sev…er… Professor Snape helped me carry them."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron walked out into the hallway. Harry took Hermione's things and began to carry them. As they walked out of the castle, Hermione looked behind her. Severus was following them. She knew why. He wanted to say goodbye to her. They all walked down the path towards Hogsmeade, Harry stealing glances at Hermione, Ron walking beside her protectively. Hermione stopped walking and grabbed onto Ron's hand. "Ron, you and Harry can go on a bit. I'll catch up. I just want to say goodbye."

Ron nodded. The two boys walked on to Hogsmeade. When they had become a speck on the horizon, which didn't take long, Severus wrapped his arms around Hermione and held her close to him.

"I'm not sure when I'll see you again, Miss Granger," he said brusquely.

"It will be soon, Severus. I promise," Hermione whispered, and lightly kissed his cheek.

Suddenly, there came a rustling noise from the wood close by. Severus released Hermione, turned to look at the noise, and saw his worst nightmare. Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort stood side-by-side, pointing their wands towards him.

"Well, well!" the Dark Lord croaked. "It looks as though we've found ourselves voyeurs into Severus' sexual life!"

"Severus, I knew you had become a Blood Traitor, but never would I have thought you'd stoop so low as to…a Mudblood, Severus! You've put your tongue into her mouth. Doesn't it taste like dirt?" Lucius spat on the ground. "When you have sex with her, does it feel like quicksand?"

"Stop it, Malfoy! You don't know what you're talking about!" Severus bellowed.

"Oh, but I do. Or don't you remember? All that fun we had with those Muggle girls in Manchester? All those glorious screams and the sweet smell of fear mixed with sweat?" Lucius had a glassy look in his eyes. "Maybe I'm the only one who can fondly remember every little Muggle bitch I've assaulted. Of course, there are certain parts of me that could never forget. Maybe I can refresh your memory?"

"Lucius!"

Lucius seemed to stalk toward Hermione. His eyes flashed with an animal-like intensity. "Severus, don't tell me you don't recall watching as I had my way with those Muggles. I always wondered why you didn't join in the fun. Well, now we know, don't we? You would have enjoyed it too much. Looks like you've enjoyed this little Mudblood whore already…I'll have to take a taste."

Snape whipped his wand out of his robes and pointed it directly at Lucius Malfoy. "You never did know when to shut up, Malfoy!"

Voldemort cleared his throat, bringing all attention back on him. "Boys, stupid, ignorant boys. You can stop your fighting now. Severus Snape, you do know why I'm here, don't you?" Snape shook his head no. "You'll learn soon enough. Oh, no, not now - soon. I'll remind you of a time when you had it all, when you were reborn, when you had a family, but you threw it away."

Snape stared into Hermione's eyes. His mouth moved but made no sound. It looked like he was saying "Cliff. Cliff."

Voldemort looked at Hermione. It made her stomach turn. "Little Mudblood, don't worry. I'm not going to kill you. Yet. But your time will come. I'm going to kill your lover. And then I'll come after you. It'll be fun. Oh, but not for you." He laughed evilly.

"No!" Hermione screamed, trying to grab her wand. Malfoy grabbed her hand, nearly crushing it with his own.

"Lucius, let go of the girl. Let her scream. Let her do her worst. She can't stop me," Voldemort grinned.

"I can't stop you, but I know who can!" Hermione shouted again.

"No one can stop me now, little girl." The snake-like man turned to Malfoy, smiled grimly, and aimed his wand at him. "I have no further use for you now, Lucius."

Malfoy's smile of triumph quickly turned into a look of panic and surprise. "But. . .but, my lord, my master! I've done everything for you…"

"That's the problem with you. You think I believe you," Voldemort said flippantly. "_Avada Kedavra_."

Hermione watched in horror as Lucius' body twisted beneath itself. She trembled violently. Voldemort laughed. "Little Mudblood girl, did that scare you? I would hope that you tell everyone the news. I'm back. I'm more powerful. Are you afraid? You should be!" He aimed his wand at Severus and uttered a few words. The two wizards disappeared, leaving Hermione alone on the road.

---

Harry fell to the ground, screaming, clutching his scar. It had never burned so hot. He felt as though his head would split in two. Ron rushed to his side. "Harry! Harry, what's going on?"

"Voldemort."

"You-Know-Who? Is he around here? Is he trying to get you?"

Harry clenched his teeth. The pain was tremendous. "No, he's just murdered someone, I know it. Something is terribly wrong."

"Oh, god. We left Hermione with Snape. I wonder if she's all right," Ron said in a worried tone. "I'll be right back, mate."

Ron sprinted down the road, dreading what might lie over the horizon. He saw Hermione in a mad dash, faster than he'd ever seen her run. She was hysterical. "Ron! Ron! He…he… Voldemort!"

Ron turned a deadly pale. "Hermione? You-Know-Who? Where?"

"He took Severus! He killed Draco Malfoy's father! Oh, my god," Hermione said as she puked on Ron's shoe.

"Come on, Hermione. We've got to get Harry. He knew what was happening. His scar…"

The two ran to Harry, who was sitting on the side of the thoroughfare, shaking. Hermione rushed to him, hugged him tightly. "Voldemort! He ambushed us. He took Severus. Killed Malfoy…"

"Malfoy?" Harry asked quizzically.

"Lucius Malfoy was with him, and he killed him. Voldemort. He's coming after me… oh, my god! Why are we just standing here?"

Ron took the initiative. He grabbed Hermione by the hand and started heading back towards Hogwarts. Harry followed close behind. "What the hell are you doing, Ron?" he asked.

"We've got to get to Professor Snape somehow, right? And we don't how to get there, right? Brooms."

"Brooms?" Hermione said shakily.

"Brooms. Brooms! Ron, you're a genius!" Harry exclaimed.


	23. The Hunter Is Captured By The Game

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

SPECIAL THANKS TO: givetozim, who helped me with the Latin...

Chapter 22 – The Hunter is Captured by the Game

On the edge of the precipice, Severus Snape and his former master, the Dark Lord Voldemort, stood face to face. The wind lashed around the two wizards, as they sized each other up with steely eyes. Voldemort held Severus captive with his wand. "Finally, spy, your time has come."

"How long have you known?" Severus asked through the pain.

"It's none of your concern how long I've known, only that I do know," Voldemort snapped. He waved his wand slightly; Severus did an involuntary sort of St. Vitus' Dance. "Betrayal. What a horrible thing for someone to do, betray their master."

"You were never my master!"

Upon hearing Severus' declaration, Voldemort began to laugh. "Oh, but I once was, else there wouldn't be my mark on your arm. Severus, do you remember when first we met on this cliff?" the Dark Lord slithered.

Severus kept his eyes open and gritted his teeth. "Yes."

Voldemort smiled, but it was detached. "I remember, too. You bent on one knee…" Severus' body betrayed him, and his left leg buckled. "…I placed my symbol upon you, called you one of my own, and you pledged to serve me until mortal death."

The Dark Mark began to ache, stinging with an intensity that Severus had never before felt. His eyes began to water, and he clinched his jaw. His strength failed him as the Crucitus Curse began to inflict its total devastation on him. Voldemort toyed with his body, causing him to genuflect deeper and deeper until he was on the ground.

"You deceived me, Snape. You turned your back on your family, much like your own father did. Of course, that's what you think."

Severus' eyes stung with burning tears. "V-v-Voldemort!"

The evil wizard laughed. "Now you call upon me! I invoke the name of your worthless father and you crumble! Just like a Snape," Voldemort spat.

Snape's nose was now bloodied, having involuntarily bashed himself over and over into a large rock embedded in the ground. "What are you talking about? My father abandoned us."

The Dark Lord's venomous laugh echoed off the cliffs. "My father abandoned us!" he mocked. "No wonder they call you _Snivellus_. No, my fine idiot, your father did not abandon you. He didn't have time to even think about leaving you and your wretched whore of a mother. I disposed of him. He wouldn't consider joining my army of followers, so I murdered him, but kept watch on you as my special project. What I could do with a young man seething with rage at the world! You could have been my most loyal servant. Now, you are a destitute, friendless and despised potions master at a second-rate boarding school!"

Severus knew that to show emotion would mean defeat. He stayed solemn as a stone as Voldemort railed against him. "You could have had it all, boy. I would have given it to you after my reign was over. Malfoy believed he was my heir, but he was wrong. He thought I needed him. He was half right; I needed his immense wealth to further my cause. But you…you had the talent, the hunger to prove yourself. You were the perfect pureblooded wizard to take my place. I taught you everything that made you who you are."

"No!" Severus screamed, a scrap of fear entering his voice. "I learned nothing from you!"

"Really? You learned the lessons I wanted you to learn, Severus. A young, tender shoot that I trampled. But you were strong. You are still strong. It's not too late to rejoin me."

"Never!" Severus yelped. He had to hold on, to resist any curse Voldemort could throw at him. Hermione would come for him; he knew it in his heart.

---

Three speeding brooms raced high and fast towards the west. It seemed as though Harry knew instinctively where Snape and Voldemort would be. Ron and Hermione could only follow helplessly as Harry raced toward the ocean. "Ron, Harry, I can't hold on much longer!" Hermione shrieked, as she abruptly stopped.

Ron slowed a bit and grabbed onto Hermione's broom. "Now, just duck low, and I'll take care of you," Ron murmured into Hermione's ear as he attempted to catch up with Harry, who had zoomed past the two at a breakneck pace.

Harry stopped near a grove of trees; Ron and Hermione caught up with him. Harry's connection to Voldemort seemed stronger than ever, but he was confused. His scar burned as fire, and he felt as though Professor Snape wasn't the only person in perilous danger this evening. He knew that Hermione would know where Snape was being held, and decided to ask her. "Hermione, do you have any idea where Snape might be?"

Hermione shook her head.

"What did he say? Anything?"

She pondered for a moment, and then answered, "He said something about being reborn?"

Ron scoffed. "That really helps, Hermione…

Harry shook his head. "No, that can't be right. Think, Hermione, word for word!"

The frightened girl closed her eyes and thought about those last few moments when Severus stood between her and the evil that was Voldemort. Suddenly, she gasped. "Cliff! Cliff! Harry, he's going to be at the cliff near Snape Manor!"

Ron, who was still clutching Hermione's hand, sped toward Harry and the trio flew faster toward Snape Manor. After what seemed to be forever, bobbing and weaving through wind currents, they approached an electrical storm. The wind abruptly stopped, and it became eerily still. Ron was first to speak.

"You-Know-Who," he said hoarsely, "and Snape."

Voldemort was thrashing the Professor to a bloody pulp. Hermione muffled a sharp cry. Harry could almost taste Snape's fear. Over the years, he had learned to begrudgingly respect the potions master, yet he still held a deep loathing for him in his heart. He looked toward Hermione. He saw true horror in her eyes, saw that her hand was trembling, and at first he thought it was because of Voldemort. Then he looked again and followed her gaze to Snape, barely standing and weak. Harry realized in that moment that Hermione's feelings for Snape were genuine, and he knew that no matter what he felt about the professor, he could not knowingly hurt Hermione. He turned away for a second, then took a deep breath.

"This will be the last time Voldemort tortures anyone," he said stoically. He pointed his wand at his feared enemy and screamed, "Crucitus!"

Voldemort's body became rigid, and he screamed. He turned his head slightly toward the trio. He was too powerful for the curse to work correctly. He smirked a malevolent smile. "Potter. We meet again. When will you learn you cannot vanquish me?" he bellowed, as he aimed his wand at Harry.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, "Look out!"

Harry spun around and quickly moved to his left, and missed a bolt from Voldemort's wand. Harry steeled himself and stood in the open. "You missed, Voldemort," he said coolly.

Snape, ignored by the Dark Lord, rose to his feet and clasped his wand. He looked toward Hermione and Ron. He nodded his head toward Harry and mouthed, "Unmentionable."

Ron's mouth dropped. "He wants us to do what?"

Hermione acquiesced. "The greater good demands that we do this."

"But how do we convince Harry?"

Hermione slowly began to walk toward Harry, her hand clutched tightly around her wand. Voldemort was still playing a game of chicken with Harry, who lobbed back his own shots. When she was within earshot of Harry, she said, "Unmentionable!"

Harry shook his head. "I can't!"

Ron yelled, "It's the only way!"

"The greater good, Harry, the greater good!" Hermione said.

Harry stood, seriously contemplating what the greater good really was. Voldemort was still formidable, but his ordeal with Snape had taken a lot out of him. It would be simple now for Harry to defeat his mortal foe and restore safety and honour to the wizarding world. Murdering him would save so many, he thought. Kill or be killed. However, assassinating Voldemort would be no less immoral than what the Dark Lord was doing to others. Harry felt torn. What truly was the greater good?

Hermione looked toward Severus, yelled at him to get Voldemort's attention away from Harry.Snape nodded in agreement, but before he could lower his wand, Voldemort cast a spell that knocked him down. Hermione screamed in panic, but she and Ron aimed their wands toward the Dark Lord. "Cructius!" they roared in unison.

Voldemort's body froze momentarily, but his gaze and wand were still upon Harry. "Potter," he sneered, "Your friends cannot stop me!"

Harry glanced to his left, where he saw Snape on the verge of death. He saw his two best friends, people who had no reason to be here, to stand by his side, except that they were mates. Then he saw Voldemort growing stronger by the minute. The dark wizard seemed to shake off the curse. The smell of imminent death was in the air. Harry knew that he had to get Hermione, Ron, and the professor out of harm's way. The only thing he could think of was an ultimatum. "Voldemort, this battle is between you and me. Let the others go."

Voldemort smiled grimly. "Young Potter, so brave, so loyal to his stupid friends. Fine. We'll have it your way." He pointed his wand at Hermione and Ron, who were helping the professor limp away from the cliff's edge, and said forcefully, _"Dissaeptum Impenetrabilis!"_ The trio were encapsulated in a type of force field. He laughed cruelly. "Now, Potter, it's just you and me, and soon, it'll only be me."

---

Hermione and Ron pounded in vain at the barrier that Voldemort had placed around them. They screamed to Harry, but he couldn't hear them. "It's no use," Ron said. "We can't help him."

"We weren't supposed to help him, remember?" Hermione said flatly. "This is between Harry and Voldemort. All we can do is watch."

Ron slumped to the ground. "Harry's no match for You-Know-Who. He can't kill him. He doesn't have it in him. He's going to fail."

"On the contrary, Weasley," Severus said weakly. "He's just like his father. James Potter never did anything halfway. He'll know what to do. Look at him."

Harry stood boldly in the open and pointed his wand toward the Dark Lord, who looked more like an emaciated snake than a human being. Voldemort's eyes grew wide. This was the boy he had tried to destroy so many years ago, the boy who grew into the man who had become the force of good in the wizarding world, and now he had directed his wand at his heart. Ron and Hermione felt a panic building in their chests as they saw the impending murder of someone, and in their hearts, they felt it would be their devoted friend, Harry Potter.

The wands seemed to be the ones locked in battle. Sparks flew from both of them, and it seemed to last forever. The wait became too much for Hermione, who fainted. Ron was able to catch her, and he held her close to him. Severus looked at the tender moment playing out in front of him, and he realized that poor, foolish Weasley was in love with the girl. He also realized that Hermione was probably aware of Weasley's feelings, and yet still chose him – Severus Snape. It warmed his heart. He turned away from the two teenagers and looked at the bizarre battle raging less than 30 yards away. Potter and the Dark Lord were united wand to wand. Both were bloody, obviously tired; Severus felt the slightest bit of fear for Potter.

Severus and Ron watched, quietly, horrified, as Harry stared deep into Voldemort's snakelike eyes. Harry clutched his wand with one hand, his scar with the other. He stood up straight and bellowed something, and a shaft of light enveloped the two.

"He's done it, Professor," Ron gasped. "_The curse_. He's done it."

It had felt as though Severus and Ron were stuck in time. Nothing seemed to move; the shaft of light as bright as when Harry and Voldemort were locked in battle. They couldn't see anything. Ron kept working on trying to get Hermione revived. He knew that she would want to know the outcome as it happened. Finally, she stirred.

"Ron…Ron, what's… where are we?" she whispered hoarsely.

Ron, overcome with emotion, broke down into tears. "He's done it, Hermione. Harry. He's killed him."

"What are you saying?" she asked softly.

Ron held her close to him and cried into her shoulder. "I don't know, but Harry did it. I'm so afraid."

Severus watched as Hermione cuddled close into Ron's arms. "It'll be okay, Ron. Harry'll make it. I know he will. He can't…he j-just can't…" she stuttered.

"The Dark Lord is no more," Severus said enigmatically. "Look."

The light began to wane, and there were two bodies lying haphazardly on the rocky ground beyond the barrier. The barrier itself started to become porous. Hermione peeked over Ron's shoulder and gasped. Ron turned, leapt to his feet. "Here, Weasley. Control yourself," Severus said dully.

Ron's eyes flashed with anger. He ran toward Severus, blinded by tears, throwing punches. "You…you did this on purpose! You lead us here! He…you…you've murdered him! Harry was right! You were trying to kill him all this time, and now you've done it! But you're out of luck, Snape, because your stupid Dark Lord has died!" Ron said hysterically. "Why won't you fight? WHY WON'T YOU FIGHT? I'm going to kill you!"

He lunged at Severus, blindsiding him and landing a harsh uppercut to Severus' face. "You murderer! You betrayed Hermione! Look what you did! You've killed him! Why did you have to take my girl? Why? Why couldn't you have just killed Harry some other way? Why did you have to drag my Hermione into this?" Ron sobbed, spit flying out of his mouth.

His rage continued, "Snape, you fucking bastard. I hate you! I hate you! You've ruined my life! You've killed my best friend, you've stolen the love of my life, you…you…"

Ron collapsed, beating his fists into the ground, his tears mingling with the dust beneath him. Hermione stood silently, watching as Ron cried and Severus bled profusely. She turned to look away, staring at the grotesque sight of the withered Voldemort and the unresponsive, prone body of Harry. She mopped the blurry tears out of her eyes. Damn all this sadness. It made everything seem like it was crawling. The more she wiped at her tears, the more it seemed that Harry was moving.

"My… Harry. HARRY!" she screamed, and ran to him.

Severus raced towards Harry, also, and caught Hermione before she reached Harry's remains. "Hermione, he's dead. He's dead."

"No! He's alive! I saw him. Harry!" she cried.

Ron stood up and began to walk in the direction of Hermione, Snape, and the lifeless corpse of his best friend. Choking on his tears, he moved slowly, his eyes scanning the scene around him. Hermione fought to get to Harry. Severus was holding her back. "He's dead, you shouldn't disturb him."

"No! HARRY! Harry! I know you can hear me, make a sign, please!" Hermione bellowed.

Ron reached Severus' side and took a step toward Harry's body. Suddenly, he stopped and gazed at Harry's hand. "Look," he whispered. "Hermione. Look. Look! Look!" he yelled, and ran to Harry's side.

Hermione broke free of Severus' grasp and also ran to Harry. She took his wrist. "There's a pulse. Oh, my god, he's alive! He's alive!" she cried, and flung herself onto Ron with joy. Ron hugged Hermione tight. "It's all right! We're all right!"

Severus stood, speechless. Potter was stronger than he knew, than he could have ever imagined. Potter had done what he, Severus Snape, could never do. He defeated Voldemort and banished him from this earth. It didn't fully hit him until he looked down at his arm, which no longer burned. The Dark Mark grew fainter. Severus allowed himself to feel the emotion that was running through him. He was free. They were all free from the Dark Lord.


	24. Epilogue

Castaways on a Sullen Sea  
By weasleywheezes

Epilogue

Harry Potter lay in a coma for four months at St. Mungo's, and when he finally returned to waking life, the first faces he saw were those of Ron and Hermione. Neither one had scarcely left his side through the whole ordeal. They filled him in on what little they knew, like the fact that before Voldemort had kidnapped Snape, he had murdered an entire town of Muggles somewhere in Northern Ireland and ambushed a large group of Hogwarts students returning to school, killing many of them. Also killed in the Ireland attack was their fellow Order of the Phoenix ally and friend Tonks. No one seemed to know where Luna Lovegood and Colin Creevey were, and they were feared to have met their demise, also. It was too much for Harry to take all at once, but he tried. At least he knew that it was over, finally, completely over.

For Hermione, those four months were full of long conversations with Ron. Ron admitted that he was in love with her, that he always had been even when he was dating Emma. Hermione told him that she was flattered, but that she didn't share the same feelings.

"Can't you try to love me?" Ron asked pitifully.

"I do love you, Ronald, believe me when I say that I love you more than almost anyone else in this world. But I am not in love with you."

While Hermione sat vigil at Harry's bedside, Severus Snape returned to Hogwarts. He announced to his students that after this year, he would no longer teach potions. The students cheered, but were suddenly silent as he also announced that he would be their Defense of the Dark Arts teacher the following year. It seemed that since the professor no longer had to live the extremely dangerous life of a spy, he could claim the mantle of the position he had always desired. It should have made him happy. It should have lifted his mood, to know that his life's ambition had finally come true, but it meant nothing without Hermione Granger by his side.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he had wasted his life. All those years of sound and fury symbolizing nothing, as the Muggle literature said. That was his life. Finally, in the darkest of days, he had found some light, some hope. Hermione. He knew that she had changed him in more ways than he could possibly imagine. Severus had received an owl from her during those early months when Potter was teetering towards death. He had read it so many times that he had it memorized. _There is so much happening, so much going on. I have to think for a while. I need to know what's right for me. What's the best thing for me to do… I'm so confused. I'm sorry. _She swore to him, in that owl, that she loved him, that she would always love him, and that what they had was very special to her. She just needed to know if that was what she wanted. She was, after all, a young woman in the prime of her life. He couldn't imagine what she was going through. In less than twenty four hours, she had consummated her relationship with her much older lover, seen two murders, almost saw her best friend die and had her other best friend admit his love for her. It had to be mind boggling for her. He didn't envy her situation at all.

Days turned to weeks, and Severus slipped deeper and deeper into doldrums. Hermione would never return to him. Her devotion to Potter and Weasley would overcome any chance he would have had. Still, he would never have taken back the last two years. Two years… had it really been that long?

He looked at himself in the mirror more often, seeing the silver strands gleaming through his coal black hair. He was an experienced man, true, but his heart was light when he was with her. He loved her with a fire and zeal that he never felt for anyone or anything else. She was love to him, life to him. No, he would never regret these few moments of pure joy and passion with her. "Audaces fortuna iuvat, Severus, and you are neither lucky or brave," he thought to himself. He sighed, but he knew that what he and Hermione shared would always be more than a memory.

Late in the spring, as the students were leaving Hogwarts and he was preparing to return to his home, he paused for a moment at his office window. He glanced out, watching the students playing games, laughing, and standing near the edge of the lake. The lake…that's how it all started. Everything seemed tied to that body of water out there, calling to him, beckoning him to swim its murky depths. The sun was reflecting off it, glinting the ripples with silver. He spied a little paper boat floating on the surface, bobbing along with the movement of the giant squid swimming around. That diminutive boat seemed to be tossed along with no sure course. That little boat was his relationship with Hermione. They were castaways, he thought to himself. Castaways alone in a rough, stormy sea, never knowing which waves would crush them.

He finished packing away the few bottles of porcupine quills and started getting his desk in order, when the door creaked open. The silence was overwhelming, but the smell of talcum powder and… _gardenias_? He knew…he knew deep inside of him that it was Hermione; she had returned to him. He never turned around, but felt as her arms encircled him, as she tangled her fingers in his. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly happy, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly loved. He fought hard to control the flood of emotions welling up deep within him, but he knew that he could face that raging sea with Hermione. He had to.

"Welcome home, Miss Granger."

FIN


End file.
